Calliope
by Thorpendipity
Summary: An explosive ghost portal levels Fentonworks and leaves young Vlad Masters as the only survivor. Ten years later, Mayor Masters is using his powers to defend Amity Park and atone for the Fenton’s deaths-especially that of their son, Daniel. As he investigates a circus that's a little too supernatural, he finds something eerily familiar about one of the performers of Circus Gothica
1. Chapter 1: Whipstaff

**Updated**

Hello!

It's been a while hasn't it? The good news is that I'm back and I've had plenty of time to do some serious plot development for Calliope. I will be editing some chapters, some just need to go, and making Calliope the story that I imagined it would be when I first had the idea. The story will remain mainly the same in essence, but there are many details that weren't workin' for me, and the sequence of events has been condensed and streamlined. With the plot as I currently have it, Calliope will end up being 24-25 chapters. The beginning will be a little faster to fix up, but the later scenes not so much. I'll mark the beginning of each chapter as **Updated** as I go, and if you are a new reader, I'd suggest just waiting for more updated material instead of continuing to the unedited ones.

Hope you all like the new Calliope!

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In Amity Park, the fall sunlight shone down on a man who was waiting. Vladimir Masters had been forced to wait for many things in his life -success, recognition, love- but at the moment, he was simply waiting for a person.

He sat outside an imposing stone building surrounded by stern fences, a business portfolio open in his lap. To any passerby, it was clear the beautiful afternoon was wasted on the man hunched over the paperwork in front of him. Vlad's foot tapped restlessly as he flicked through the stack of papers. His presentation for Axion Labs last week had been flawless, but that didn't stop him from going over the documents at every opportunity, searching for some flaw that would cause the laboratory to decline the proposed contract with Fentonworks. Unfortunately, there were many. Fentonworks was a virtually unknown company, wallowing in serious debt, and run by the two most infamous, though brilliant, inventors in town.

'Well,' He thought idly, pausing as he turned a page, 'One of them is brilliant.'

It wasn't _her_ fault that her husband had revealed to the entire town that their trans dimensional energy research, as well as extensive weapon developments, were motivated by their obsession of ectology. Getting accepted as a sister company by the most advanced security and tech company in the United States, would be the triumph of his very short time in the business world, and a good slap in the face to those who treated anything associated with his company with nothing but disgust. A testament to his brilliance. The contract had to go through.

Vlad suddenly looked down at the chipped wooden bench he sat on with mild disdain. When the contract went through, he would pay to have the benches replaced. Or better, he'd have a private driver. He smiled slightly at the thought.

It wasn't all about the money though. His thoughts inevitably drifted once again to the creators of Fentonworks. Jack Fenton was the same imbecile that he had been in college, but Maddie? She had only become more magnificent with time. The moment he'd met her, just a few short years ago, he had been captivated by how she fiercely tackled any obstacle in her path. Now, at the age of twenty-seven she was already an accomplished inventor, biologist, physicist, and-of all things- a martial artist. Unfortunately, she was also Jack's wife, and the mother of their two children. The worst of it was that she actually seemed happy to be paired with the biggest oaf that had ever walked the planet.

To this day Vlad had no idea how it had all happened. He swallowed, impulsively trying to rid the bad taste in his mouth that always surfaced when he thought too much about it. He suspected that it had something to do with a lab explosion that had landed the two in a hospital with minor injuries their junior year. After that day, Jack and Maddie had taken to making long trips to various "ghost hotspots" all around the state, and before he knew it, they had been engaged and married.

His moments standing at Jack's side as his best man had been the most agonizing of his life. He knew from that moment what had to be done. Maddie needed to recognize her mistake, and that _he_ was the partner she deserved. So, when Maddie had asked him to take over the management of Fentonworks, he had jumped on the task with all of his heart and mind. He knew that when she saw how far he was taking her company, her admiration and love for him would grow. It was inevitable.

Yet, as much as his career and obsession for Maddie motivated him, there was yet another factor that kept him from just giving up and accepting that Jack Fenton, as irritating as he was, had simply won Madeline's heart first and moving on with his life. In fact, it was the reason he was sitting on this blasted, splintery bench.

His prematurely graying hair suddenly brushed across his face as a small breeze swept by, interrupting his train of thought. Vlad automatically pushed it out of his face, only to have the shoulder length hair flop apathetically in front of his face again. When Axion Labs signed the deal with Fentonworks, he decided, he'd go to the best barbershop in town, and finally get a decent haircut. But, in the meantime. . .

He pulled his hair into a low ponytail, using a hair tie that Maddie had given him as a joke nearly a month ago. He had not liked the idea of tying his hair, but one day he'd tried it, and he found he liked how he looked. He seemed older. More impressive.

Now with his hair tied back so it wouldn't get in the way, Vlad carefully resumed jotting notes on the transcript of his presentation. It was hard to concentrate though. Every so often, his cold eyes traced over the iron letters pounded into the stone walls in front of him.

 _Whipstaff. What a terrible name_. Vlad thought disapprovingly. _When the contract went through. . ._

His train of thought was once again interrupted as a distant bell rang inside the building. Vlad carefully tucked the portfolio into his briefcase and stood. The occupants of the dreary building began streaming out into the yard where Vlad was waiting. He began combing the rush of people for the one he'd been asked to collect.

"Uncle Vlad!" A small boy streaked towards him, shoes untied, dark hair sticking in every direction, and, somehow, with every single pocked of the enormous backpack that dwarfed him hanging open. Vlad braced himself, but still staggered as he was tackled in an enthusiastic hug. Twisting awkwardly, Vlad looked down at the bright blue eyes shining happily up at him from under a mess of dark hair. He raised an eyebrow.

"Daniel," His voice was stern, "what have I told you about waiting inside the gate?" The boy immediately released his hold on Vlad's waist.

"It's not safe outside the gate because there are cars and maybe bigfoots" The boy recited, looking up at him expectantly. Vlad was a little taken back by the end of that sentence, and forced himself not to smile.

"That's right." Vlad said seriously. Daniel wasn't fooled by Vlad's serious face and giggled, immediately undoing his attempt to stay serious. He laughed, and Daniel launched himself into his now open arms. Vlad had to admit that Daniel's hugs were among the few things he didn't mind him inheriting from his father.

"How was school, little badger? Did you have fun?" Vlad ruffled the boy's messy hair as he set him back on the ground and set about getting his shoes tied and backpack zipped.

"Yeah! I drew a spaceship! I told Kwan that mom and dad are building a spaceship, but he didn't believe me. He says only astronauts have spaceships." Daniel pouted at this. Vlad could only guess what he meant about his parents building a spaceship. Maybe the prototype ghost portal? He supposed that the inside looked similar to a spaceship.

"Well, I guess that means if you become an astronaut, then you can have your own spaceship." Vlad reasoned, bending to take Daniel's hand as he turned to leave the schoolyard.

"Yeah!" Daniel started tugging Vlad along, eager to get home. "I better start building it! Do you think mom and dad will let me use their stuff?"

"I'm sure they would love to help you build a spaceship."

Vlad doubted Jack Fenton would even blink if asked to build a space shuttle. It was actually a pretty realistic request given his other projects. Still, for a man who believed in ghosts, he was surprisingly good at bringing his whims to life. Except for the Fenton Toaster. That had been a nightmare.

The two began their daily trek to Fenton Works. Daniel was a little blur, his worn converse flapping against the pavement as he ran from thing to thing. Vlad frowned at the flapping soles. When the contract went through, he decided, he'd buy Daniel new shoes. Destroyed shoes or not, now that the leaves had fallen in huge drifts, there was nothing Vlad could do to dissuade Daniel from stomping through as many piles as he could. Vlad was content to watch him explore, only occasionally pulling him back when he got a little too close to the curb. Daniel chattered as they walked, happily describing a game that he had learned in his gym class. Something caught Vlad's attention as he watched the boy demonstrate, prompting him to interrupt.

"Daniel, what's happened to your hands?" Vlad gently grabbed the boy's wrists and turned his palms up. Bruises were forming on the heels of his scraped-up hands.

"Uh," Daniel's face screwed up as he obviously tried to come up with a lie.

"Daniel." Vlad said sternly. Chastised, Daniel blurted the truth.

"Dash pushed me off the swings again." He looked around nervously, checking to see that there was no one near.

"Again? As in, this has happened more than once?" Vlad's face tightened in a scowl.

"Yeah," Danny shrugged, absently rubbing his leg with his other foot, "I'm okay though. I'm not a _baby_." His normally cheerful voice twisted with anxiety.

"Of course you're not a baby Daniel, but that doesn't mean you can't tell someone when you get hurt. Did you tell your teacher what happened?" Vlad could guess the answer from the boy's red face, but he wanted to hear him say it.

"I'm not a tattle tale!" Daniel protested, scowling.

Vlad sighed. He let go of Daniel's hands and knelt down so he could look him in the eye.

"Daniel, I'm very worried that this is the first time you told me someone was being unkind to you. It's wrong for them to hurt you, or to call you a baby. You're not." Vlad's eyes crinkled affectionately. "You're brave, you're funny, and you're smart. Your parents and I love you very much, so you need to tell us when you're having trouble. Do you understand?"

"Okay, Uncle Vlad."

He wasn't entirely convinced Daniel did understand, but he nodded and stood. He'd have to make some inquiries about this Dash character. He sounded unpleasant, especially if he was giving Daniel a hard time. Daniel! The child was the most kind hearted person Vlad have ever met, if a little too shy and serious sometimes.

"All right, Daniel," He clapped his hands together, "Did you learn any new letters today?" Immediately the boy's embarrassment vanished and they began walking again, Daniel pointing out letters he knew as they went. Before long a familiar building appeared in the distance. It was hard to miss as the roof was covered in a metal skeleton that held the currently in-construction OPCENTER. Vlad had to suppress a sigh just looking at the metal monstrosity. It was no wonder the entire town thought its inhabitants were insane.

Daniel, thankfully, did not notice Vlad's dislike of the enormous boxy building, and pulled even faster now that his home was in sight. The small boy ran up the steps, but knew better than to open the door alone. He fidgeted impatiently as Vlad carefully disactivated no less than 7 security codes. Failure to do so would have sent them both flying off the porch, encased in a gooey mixture that could only be melted off by an obscure brand of window cleaner. It had happened before, and was the reason that no one delivered mail to the Fenton household for the last three years.

Finally, the door opened and Daniel attempted to get past him and run towards his favorite part of the house: the lab. Vlad had become more than adept at snagging the five-year-old before he could get too far though, and did so without even looking away from the door he was relocking. Jack and Maddie had been down in the lab since early that morning, and if they hadn't resurfaced yet, it was because they were still working, and the lab was no playground. Daniel squirmed and complained about wanting to see the spaceship, but Vlad towed him off to the kitchen instead. He pouted as Vlad firmly sat him down at the kitchen table, but stayed put.

"Jasmine!" Vlad yelled, rifling through the cupboards, "Daniel's here! Come and get something to eat!" He was not as fond of Daniel's sister, she was turning out to be impertinent and bossy, but Maddie would be upset if Jasmine hadn't eaten anything. The girl had already arrived from school nearly an hour before, and had vanished to her room with a book under her arm without a word to him. Talk about ingratitude. His call yielded no results, and Vlad didn't try again. He had done his part, now he could focus on distracting Daniel long enough that he could get down to the lab himself and check up on Maddie. She worked herself just as hard as he did, and he got worried when she spent days on end in the lab. He knew that Jack was always working alongside her, but the man wasn't exactly the most observant. Maddie needed _him_ , not Jack.

"Daniel?" He had an idea. The boy was trying to poke his straw into his juicebox with little success, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He looked up expectantly, probably hoping his Uncle would offer to help him. "Why don't you take your juice and some cookies up to Jasmine's room? She can help you get it open, and you can tell her about what you played today." A sunny smile spread across his face at the idea of eating upstairs, which his mother did not allow.

"Okay!" Vlad watched with satisfaction as Daniel quickly vanished upstairs, loaded with snacks. He quickly slipped out of the kitchen, and zipped himself into a generic white hazmat suit that hung next to the basement door. He did not take as much care as he should have in closing the door behind him as he descended to the lab, a decision which would haunt him for years. He wove around cluttered tables, barely sparing a glance at the gaping alcove designed to hold a functioning ''ghost ''portal. Jack and Maddie had been in the control room for the device for the last few hours. Probably trying to figure out why the energy readings from the portal were wrong again.

Vlad already knew their little project was doomed to failure. Honestly, a ghost portal? Ghosts didn't exist, let alone an entire dimension of them. Their future was in weapon development, as much as the couple didn't want to admit it. It was their ingenious shield technology that was going to seal the contract with Axion, not claims that intelligent life existed in a parallel dimension.

Still, as long as they were focused on their magnum opus, they would need him to manage Fenton Works, and look after Daniel. As well as Jasmine, he supposed, but she was already surprisingly independent at seven years old. That's why he'd fiddled around with the ectofiltrator again this morning. It was always so satisfying to hear them argue about the continually unstable energy readings and malfunctioning equipment. Who knows, maybe the continued failure of all their efforts would cause a big enough rift between them that they'd separate? It was an idle daydream, but one Vlad didn't mind indulging.

Jack and Maddie's voices met him as he pushed open the door into the small control room. They were both facing a large monitor, its green glow bathing their frowning faces.

"I just don't get it, Jack, the readings yesterday were very unstable, but they look perfect now. I'm not sure what's changed, but I still think we should wait to see if the stability lasts a few more hours, just to be sure it's not some fluke." Maddie bit her lip as her eyes swept over the graphs of data on the screen. Vlad said nothing, hardly paying attention to what she was saying as he soaked in the sight of her. Only Maddie could make a hazmat suit attractive. Her husband shrugged his huge shoulders amiably.

"I dunno, Mads. This may be our best shot at punching through into the ghost dimension. I say we go for it!"

"I suppose," she said hesitantly, "We've just been having all those problems with our equipment frying. We shouldn't try to open a full rift yet. Maybe a test run, to see if we can sustain a small tear. If the equipment seems to be handling it, and the readings are good, we can push further. I don't want a repeat of what happened in college."

"Is everything alright?" Vlad interrupted, their conversation suddenly registering. What did she mean the readings were perfect? He had reconfigured the filtrator at random, there was no way the device could be working correctly. The couple jumped at his unexpected voice.

"VLADDY!" Jack rushed across the room to greet him, "You're just in time, V-man! We're going to do our first test run on the portal! Today's the day we punch a hole into the spook's own dimension!" Vlad impatiently extricated himself from Jack's crushing grip as Maddie spoke.

"I'm glad you're here, Vlad." She absentmindedly began pulling her long, curly hair into a quick knot. "Did you find Danny okay?" Vlad's irritation immediately faded at the mention of her son, replaced by the familiar butterflies in his stomach as Maddie smiled at him.

"Yes, I did. He's upstairs. He is very excited to start building his own space shuttle." Maddie smiled fondly, her loosely bound hair almost immediately escaping its knot as she shook her head regretfully. Jack, who had not been phased at all by Vlad's irritation, broke in on the conversation as he lumbered across the small space to his wife's side.

"He always was more interested in aliens than ghosts. We'll win him over eventually," Jack assured her, pecking her on the cheek, "Especially when we get this portal up and running!" They both took their places at the control board once more.

Vlad leaned disinterestedly against the bulletproof glass window that overlooked the lab, watching as the portal lights flashed to life on the adjacent wall. Its striped doors had swiftly closed to protect the rest of the building from the radioactive energy about to course through it. Maybe if he was lucky the thing would explode and they'd have to start from scratch . . . again. A deep hum began to fill the room as the portal began to activate, making it difficult to hear anything. Vlad pulled away from the window as it began to vibrate as well.

"Jack, open the feed so we can see what's happening!" Maddie ordered excitedly, nearly shouting to be heard. The lights overhead flickered wildly as the portal began draining power from the rest of the house. If they weren't careful, they were going to black out the whole neighborhood. Vlad frowned at the thought.

 _We're going to need that Axion contract just to pay for the energy bill._

Jack's large hands darted with surprising agility over the controls, and a large screen started powering on on the opposite wall. Even _more_ noise flooded the room as the display began channeling the sounds of the machine shuddering to life from the inside. Suddenly, over the dull roar of the portal combining electricity and what Jack swore was ectoplasm, an unexpected sound crackled over the speakers.

"Mommy!"

The terrified cry shattered the excitement in the room, and they all froze. As one, they turned to the display. The camera inside the portal finally connected, revealing the fuzzy image of a small shape pounding on the doors that had so suddenly shut behind him.

No.

It couldn't be. It wasn't possible!

Maddie's scream shattered the numb shock that had fallen over them and they all jolted to life again. "JACK! Power down the portal!"

The terrified parents leapt to the controls. The control room door, though made of reinforced metal, may as well have been made of paper for all the effort it took Vlad to shove it open. He crashed through the lab. Tables and equipment flew. Sliding to a stop, he pounded a code into the small control panel next to the flashing portal.

Nothing.

An emergency siren split the air.

Cursing, Vlad darted over and dug his fingers into the groove between the doors before his logic caught up. What was he doing? He'd never open the door like that!

He turned. There had to be something! Immediately his gaze fell on the ridiculously large weapon Jack had christened the Fenton Cannon lying on the floor just a few paces away. He turned back to the portal doors.

"Daniel!" He pounded on the unforgiving metal, screaming to be heard over the now shrieking siren. "Daniel! Listen to me, I need you to back up! BACK UP! Get as far away from the doors as you can!" He desperately hoped Daniel could hear him, because whatever Jack and Maddie were doing to power down the portal clearly wasn't working.

The large bulb lights that framed the portal began to blow out, showering him with broken glass. He yelled in pain and ducked away as the lab was plunged into near darkness. He recovered quickly, but it the darkness cost him precious seconds to find what he needed. Vlad darted forward and snatched the clunky weapon from its work table, clumsily aiming it at the portal doors.

 _Jack Fenton if this works, I will never complain about any of your inventions ever again_. He pulled the trigger.

BANG

The lab briefly flared with light as the blast erupted from the gun, throwing him backwards. Blinking away spots, he looked towards the portal. A huge crater had been punched into the steel; a dark gap now visible between the warped doors. Vlad scrambled to his feet, tossing away the weapon

Even as he ran he knew it was too late. Time seemed to slow as he shoved aside a smoking door, his palms screaming in protest at coming in contact with the hot metal. Electricity arced through the darkness. A swirling mass of green energy was tearing itself into existence at the far end of the tunnel.

Daniel's small form was silhouetted against the glowing sphere. His frightened eyes locked on to Vlad's, shining a phosphorescent green as they reflected the eerie light. All of Vlad's senses shut down as he jumped forward, wrapping himself around the child. In the split second before the energy exploded, there was silence.

There are no words to describe the pain Vlad felt as the energy enveloped them both, their screams lost in the explosion that ripped through the lab. He could do nothing as Daniel dissolved in his arms, ripped from existence in the torrent of energy. He could do nothing as the explosion rocked the house, killing Jack, Maddie and Jasmine instantly. It would be days before he was found in the ruins of Fenton Works, only alive because he was now half dead.

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Thoughts? Questions? Not too different so far is it?

See you soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Mind Pollution

**Updated**

Okay guys, again I'm in the process of editing and rewriting a majority of Calliope. I've cut some intermediary chapters that used to be between the first chapter and this one. Again, I'll be putting and **Updated** at the top of every chapter that I've finished rewriting as I go, I would strongly recommend **not** continuing to the unedited chapters because it'll just be a big bundle of continuity errors and old plot that won't make such sense.

* * *

10 Years Later

As the sun set over Amity Park, a figure in red armor zipped across the orange streaked sky. Balancing easily on a sleek black hoverboard, the masked woman curved downwards towards an impressive stone columned building that stood in the center of the city. A protest was obviously underway as a crowd of nearly two hundred people wielding homemade signs and angry faces crowded the tall wooden doors, a megaphone squawking intelligibly from somewhere. The commotion was surrounded by crews of local news stations, obviously pleased at the prospect of having something of interest to broadcast in the small city. As the woman flew closer, many of the protesters caught sight of her, and shrank back in alarm. None of them could see the amused smile twisting her lips as she purposely buzzed a little too close, sending them shrieking, before taking off around the building. She wasn't at City Hall for them. The police handled the human issues of the town. She had her own responsibilities to deal with.

Rounding the building, she quickly located her entry point and soared through a conveniently open window. Clicking her heels sharply, the hoverboard folded away. The red armor she wore retracted and folded itself neatly into a small pack on her back. Shaking out her thick curly hair, Valerie Gray turned to look around the empty room she had entered.

It was a typical office. That is, a typical office for an arrogant billionaire politician. An enormous portrait of a white-haired man dominated the space behind a large wooden desk. The man's blue eyes were cold, his posture regal. Just looking at it made Valerie's mouth twist in distaste, as if the masked disdain on the painted face was directed at her. She didn't have much time to criticize the decor though.

Behind her a key rustled in the lock and the door to the office opened. The man in the portrait strode in. The painting didn't do Vladimir Masters much justice, Valerie decided, he was much more intimidating in person. If Masters was startled by finding her in his private office, he didn't show it. He merely inclined his head at her and turned to lock the door once more.

"Ah, Ms. Gray. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I would have been here to receive you, but I'll admit I was expecting you to come through the front door." He crossed the room to stand behind the desk. Valerie put her hands on her hips.

"Uh, Mayor Masters, I'm not sure if you're aware, but you have a pretty big crowd of angry people outside this building. I couldn't have come through the front door even if I wanted to. What did you do now?"

"Ms. Gray, you wound me." Vlad Masters pressed a hand to his heart, a look of mock indignation on his face, "I am nothing if not a servant to the public. Besides, I'm not the one that took the time to do a little fly over to startle the protesters." He looked at her pointedly as he took a seat behind his desk. "Still, the reason they are here is the same reason I asked you to come. What time is it?"

"Almost six." Valerie supplied, checking her watch.

"Perfect, I'll just let the media fill you in." Vlad pulled a remote from a desk drawer and flicked on the tv on the opposite wall. Valerie turned to watch as the distinctive jingle of the local news station played, a smiling woman appearing on screen.

"Good evening, Amity Park. This is Harper Drizzle, bringing you the six o'clock news." The blonde woman's perky voice bubbled from the tv. Valerie gracelessly flopped onto a comfortable arm chair, settling in to watch.

"We'll go first to Tiffany Snow, who has our first Ghost Watch segment of the evening." The camera panned across the newsroom to focus on a red headed reporter who had a broad smile on her face. After the expected, but annoying, few seconds the reporter took her cue, and she began to speak.

"A common scene played out in the streets of Amity Park today. A series of ghostly animal attacks were reported throughout the morning, but the activity was quickly snuffed out by two very familiar figures." Images began appearing on the screen behind her as she spoke, showing a series of frightening monsters. A glowing hooded cobra the length of a school bus, with fangs the size of elephant tusks. An enormous grizzly with four eyes and claws that could shred steel. A flock of three horned sheep, that didn't appear to be attacking anything, but were still causing concern as they grazed on the trees in the city park.

"The ghostly entity known as Plasmius was the first to confront the intruding ghosts." Ms. Snow continued in her high, slightly nasally voice, "Our self-proclaimed protector began quickly exterminating the threats." A small square appeared over the reporter's shoulder, playing a short clip of a blue-skinned figure dressed in white, black and red. The ghost's solid red eyes glared out from the screen; fangs bared. Valerie rolled her eyes and began tapping out a text message to Star. Her friend was going to get annoyed if she showed up late to bowling night again.

"Though Plasmius was greeted with fear and distrust when he first appeared in Amity's skies nearly ten years ago, he has proven invaluable to Amity Park's safety from supernatural threats. Though many citizens of Amity still regard Plasmius with suspicion, public approval has never been higher!" A helpful graph appeared on the screen, though Valerie couldn't be bothered to look. Her phone was suddenly plucked out of her hand and used to smack her lightly on the forehead.

"Pay attention Ms. Gray." Vlad chastised. They matched glares, one of Valerie's favorite pastimes, but before she could open her mouth to argue, her attention was caught by the mention of herself on the report.

"The Scarlet Surfer, the controversial representative of Axion Labs Ghost Defense department, was the next to arrive on the scene." The large screen began displaying footage of a woman in a red flight-suit on a hoverboard as she battled the massive, ghostly cobra earlier that day. The cobra struck, but she had already zipped out of reach, sending a flurry of throwing stars behind her, striking the cobra in the eye, and blinding it. Valerie smiled at the sight. She made ghost fighting look good, she'd have to get a copy of that clip. She side eyed the phone Vlad had slipped into his pocket, wondering if she could get it back without him noticing. Probably not.

"Ever since Mayor Vladimir Masters officially named our mysterious surfer a protector of the city just a few months ago, she has appeared more and more frequently to combat the ghosts that Amity Park is so constantly plagued with. Though Mayor Masters and Axion Labs claim full legal responsibility for the surfer's actions, they have declined to reveal her identity to the public.

"True to form, the Scarlet Surfer made no attempt to fight or capture Plasmius. Instead, the two worked in tandem to capture the remaining ghosts before both vanishing. Axion Labs, in response to demands that the Scarlet Surfer either capture or destroy Plasmius, said in an official statement that they do not believe Plasmius to be a threat, and that they will not order the Scarlet Surfer to act against him unless absolutely necessary."

"The rest of the day has been ghost free, but remember to be cautious as the day ends and darkness falls. Back to you Harper." The screen cut back to the main reporter.

"Thank you, Tiffany. When we come back, Harmless Entertainment or a Moral Assault? Coverage of this morning's city council press conference, and live footage of the protest taking place this evening at city hall."

"I really need to get a publicist." Valerie announced, turning away from the screen as it went to commercial. The mayor chuckled, his annoyance at her lack of interest in the news report gone.

"I rather like The Scarlet Surfer. It has a nice ring to it." Vlad returned to his seat behind the desk, ruining Valerie's plans to pickpocket him. She resigned herself to her fate and shrugged.

"I guess it's better than The Garnet Gunner. Thank goodness they stopped calling me that."

"I had a thought the other day." Vlad said conversationally, steepling his fingers, "Once your public approval ratings are up, we could start introducing more ghost hunters. I would sponsor it of course, and we could call you all the 'Master's Blasters'. There's a lot of marketable opportunities with the idea."

"Vlad?" Valerie said kindly, twisting in her chair to rest her chin on its back. Vlad looked at her in surprise. She rarely used his first name, so the man had to know that whatever she had to say was serious.

"Yes?"

"Please never use the phrase 'Master's Blasters' ever again." Vlad laughed and leaned back into his chair again.

"Very well, I'll put some more thought into it. I'll see if I can come up with something a little more appealing to you."

"Thanks." Valerie flopped back into her usual position on the armchair and gestured towards the screen. "That wasn't really anything new though, they always say the same stuff about our ghost fighting halves. And it doesn't explain why there's a bunch of angry people outside. Why did you have me come all the way to your office to watch that?"

"While it's important to stay vigilant about our presence in the media, you are correct. That story was not the one I wanted you to see. I believe the next segment should clarify." He nodded back towards the television, and Valerie once more gave her attention to the woman on the screen as the news came back on.

"In a controversial decision, billionaire Mayor Masters announced this afternoon that he is going to hold true to his campaign promises to revive Amity Park's entertainment industry. His first choice of event has aroused a flood of protests from local parents."

The screen cut to a video of a conference room, where Vlad sat at the center of a long table, flanked by city council members. His voice filled the room.

"I have extended an invitation to the Circus Gothica company to spend their spring season here in Amity Park. I realize that Circus Gothica is a rather unusual choice, but I feel Amity Park would benefit from catering to a more diverse audience. Especially to the interests of our youth." The video froze and the feed cut back to the newsroom, where Tiffany Snow and Harper Drizzle were seated behind the main desk.

"We'll go now to Lance Thunder, who is outside City Hall where protests are currently taking place." Tiffany Snow announced.

The screen cut to a handsome man with elaborately shaped hair.

"Why do I have to get assigned to all the awful stories? I'm the weatherman for pete's sake." He paused in his rant and straightened, plastering a winning smile on his face. "Tiffany! This is Lance Thunder reporting outside city hall. Crowds of concerned parents have gathered to protest the Mayor's decision to invite Circus Gothica to spend their spring season here in Amity Park. Circus Gothica is a troupe that has been performing for decades all around the country. Led by owner and Ringmaster Frederich Showenhower, or "Freakshow", Circus Gothica has a strong emphasis on the disturbing, abnormal, and even supernatural." Valerie didn't see the mayor quickly close his eyes and turn his head away from the television as images of Circus Gothica began popping up on the screen. One of the images was of a frightning looking man with grey skin, yellowing teeth, and an unusually long nose. Valerie's lip curled in disgust just looking at the miserable creature. If that was the ringmaster, she didn't want to see the rest of the cast.

"Jeremy and Pamela Manson are the leaders of the protests. They claim that Circus Gothica's presence and themes are immoral, objectionable, and unfit to be presented to the impressionable youth of Amity Park. Interestingly, though she is no longer available for comment, the Manson's daughter admitted she has already purchased her tickets and believes her parents are overreacting. Back to you Tiffany!"

"Well, that sounds like a family quarrel just waiting to happen! Thank you, Lance." Tiffany chirped, the feed from the studio replacing Lance Thunder's smirking face.

"It's unlikely these protests will have any effect on Circus Gothica's presence, as the company's train is reaching town tonight." Harper continued, "Opening Ceremonies will be hosted tomorrow morning when Ringmaster Freakshow presents his performers to the public. Their first performance of their acclaimed act, _Vita et Mortem_ , will take place this Saturday night. More on this story as events continue to unfold."

The tv clicked off, and silence filled the room for a long moment.

"So why are you really inviting Circus Gothica to Amity Park?" Valerie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't think it's because I want to support the diverse interests of the citizens I lead?" Vlad asked smoothly. She snorted.

"No, I don't. I've known you for way too long for me to believe _that's_ your reason."

"You are very perceptive Ms. Gray. That's why we make such an effective team." Vlad stood, brushing off his designer suit with absent minded arrogance.

"You heard Mr. Thunder. Circus Gothica has an emphasis on the supernatural. I've decided that it wouldn't hurt to investigate to ensure there's nothing, ah, _too_ supernatural going on."

"Let me get this straight," Valerie laughed, "You've ticked off a bunch of goody goody parents because you invited a goth circus into town? A goth circus whose whole appeal is to be gothic, and whose target audience is all the goth weirdos, because you think it's a little too goth?" She threw her head back and laughed, absentmindedly checking her nails. "Well, congratulations Vlad, bring me back a little keychain from the merchandise booth, because I'm gonna want to remember this one!"

"You know from experience that I do not do anything unless I have given it a great deal of thought." Vlad said coldly. Valerie shut up and looked at him apprehensively. Vlad only talked to her with that tone when it was serious. Once he saw she was taking him seriously he continued.

"Every town that Circus Gothica has spent the season in has experienced dozens, if not hundreds, of unexplainable robberies. Security footage shows jewelry, historical artifacts, and money simply vanishing from their places. No intruder has ever been caught." Valerie sat up straight as she mulled that over.

"You really think a group of circus ghosts are traveling the country robbing people?" She tried hard not to let her skepticism show. Vlad gestured at himself.

"It wouldn't be the strangest thing that's happened." She nodded absently, thinking hard about what he had told her. Vlad criticized her sometimes for her impulsiveness in battle, but when she wanted to, she had a very strategic mind.

"How did you even hear about Circus Gothica? It doesn't seem like something you'd be interested in." Vlad stood and began pacing. Valerie watched him carefully. Masters almost never showed when he was concerned about something. It really took away from his arrogant 'I know everything, sit down and shut up' sort of vibe. It was freaky to see him unnerved.

"It isn't." Vlad muttered, his gaze distant as he paced, "It was merely chance that I watched an advertisement for it, which brings me to my greatest reason to suspect Circus Gothica of ghostly activity. As I watched, my mind began to cloud. The ringmaster's words dominated my thoughts. When I came to my senses, I found I had transformed into my ghost half and gone halfway across town. I have never experienced anything like it. Freakshow must be a very powerful ghost to be able to manipulate me, especially when it was merely a recording of him that produced such an effect." Vlad came to a stop and crossed his arms. "It is our duty to investigate further."

"I know how important stopping ghosts is to you Mayor Masters." Valerie said sympathetically. She knew he blamed himself for the accident that had opened the rifts that the ghosts were constantly invading Amity Park through. "What do you need me to do?" Masters clearly didn't like the pity in her tone, because he stopped pacing and turned to her, his face calm and collected.

"I'd like you to attend Gothica's opening ceremonies tomorrow morning. I'll have your father excuse you from class. Take as many readings as you can. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with." The dismissal was clear, but she still had a question.

"Will you be there?" Valerie stood, clicking her heels to activate her hoverboard and armor. Vlad shook his head and moved away from the window.

"No. Either of my identities would be very conspicuous at the event. Besides, it is in my best interest to stay far from Circus Gothica until I can figure out how this Freakshow was able to control me. I'm counting on you, Ms. Gray."

"I won't let you down!" Her eyes gleamed with pride as she her red helmet and black visor snapped into place over her face. Her next words came out harsher, the helmet's speakers disguising her voice. "Those spooks won't know what hit them!"

* * *

Again, not too different from the original. The real changes are going to start showing up after chapter 3, which I will post shortly.

Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3: Opening Ceremonies

**Updated**

* * *

Sam Manson forced herself not to roll her eyes and just take another bite of toast as the dining room erupted into yet another argument over breakfast. It was an established fact that Pamela Manson was not happy unless she had something to self-righteously complain about. Sam had graciously taken it upon herself to get the carping started by protesting loudly as her mother switched off the tv as a Circus Gothica advertisement had begun to play.

"Mom, I was watching that!"

"This evil mind pollution is nothing you should be seeing, sweety." Pamela said loftily. Her father nodded earnestly, trying to look serious but not managing to get his normal toothy smile to cooperate. Her grandmother happily munched on her sausage, looking expectantly at the three of them. She was clearly pleased at the prospect of a fresh argument. Sam knew her family was the center of gossip at her grandma's bingo club, this would just give her more material. Not that she _needed_ more after the second great dress war that had taken place just before breakfast. Sam was still pleased about that, and was actually pretty excited about her new dress. Maybe she'd wear it to the opening night performance?

Her mother had not been pleased by the fact that Sam had said on camera, in front of the entire town no less, that she thought her parents were overreacting, and that she intended to attend the opening night performance in five days' time. Sam realized that her mother had been talking this whole time and forced herself to pay attention.

"Tucker and I already bought our tickets!" Sam interrupted as her mother once again vehemently denied that any of them would be going to catch a show. "Look, we'll be fine. It's just harmless entertainment." Sam's irritation changed to amusement as her mother's indignation reached the level that she could only open and close her mouth as she fought to speak. She took advantage of the temporary silence to push away from the table and grab her bag. She quickly bent to kiss her grandmother goodbye, and, too softly for her parents to hear, whispered, "Cover for me until I'm around the corner, okay?" The elderly woman winked, and responded scratchily, "You got it bubeleh."

As Sam made to leave, her mother finally got her wind back. "Wait just one second, young lady!" She sputtered, "This discussion is not over!"

"Cross over to the dark side!" Ida Manson suddenly chanted, throwing her hands in the air. Sam stifled a laugh as her mother turned to her mother-in-law in shock, giving Sam the opening she needed to get out the door. She didn't hesitate to immediately take off up the street in the opposite direction of the school. If her grandma was backing her, her parents wouldn't be watching her leave.

A soft vibrating emanated from her wristwatch, and she looked down just in time to miss seeing five glowing shapes streak overhead towards Circus Gothica. Sam quickly tapped the small screen when she saw it was a call from Tucker coming through. The watch was clunky, and sort of ugly, but it was just because he had made the communicator himself using nothing but an old PDA and a microwave he'd found while dumpster diving. Still, the video call was clear enough for her to choke down a laugh when she caught sight of her oldest friend.

"How's the skirt fitting?" She teased, "A little tight? The lipstick looks great, though, Maybe I'll let you keep it."

"You know what? Screw you Sam." Tucker said crossly as he adjusted his dark wig, "This is so wrong."

"Just remember that Benjamin in your pocket, Tucker." She said soothingly. It took surprisingly little money to bribe Tucker into going along with whatever scheme she'd come up with. It was probably because he still hadn't grasped just how much money her family had, otherwise he'd be charging more.

"Just be back before second period, okay? I won't go into chemistry wearing drag just to give you a chance to see your crush in person, Sam." Before she could respond Tucker ended the call. She walked faster, trying to ignore Tucker's last comment. She wasn't going just to see her one celebrity crush. Sure, she was hoping she'd see him there . . . and it would be incredible to actually talk to him. . .

* * *

Valerie walked purposefully towards the train station, keeping her head low, not wanting anyone to recognize her. She was already close enough to the train station that the street was filled with little bunches of emo punks all heading in the same direction and looking a little dazed to be out in the bright sunlight.

If someone had told Valerie when she first met Vlad Masters nearly ten years ago that she would end up at a goth circus investigating ghosts for him, she would have thought they had lost their minds.

Mr. Masters and the Fentons had been a prospective business partner with Axion before the Fenton's deaths, as Axion Labs was the only company that was interested in Fentonworks' research, and in selling their inventions. Valerie's mother had been a close friend of Maddie Fenton, and was the lead scientist at Axion at the time. She and Valerie's father, Damon, who was part of the security division at Axion, had taken the sick and heartbroken man under their wing when his ectoacne stumped the local hospital.

Even though Valerie had only been six years old at the time, she remembered how hard that first year was for Vlad. He had been forced to live in Axion's quarantine lab for fear of his illness spreading, and had hardly had contact with anyone but a handful of researchers and doctors until his ectoacne had eventually ''cured'' itself. Valerie only knew about his ghost half because her mother would take her on her visits with the depressed man. He'd had serious trouble controlling his powers back then. For some reason he was able to control himself a little better when she was present. All the while reports of ghosts attacking the city flooded the news.

Valerie had lost her mother in one of the attacks. Axion was flourishing due to the sudden demand for the ghost shields that the Fentons had been so mocked for inventing, but one of the ghosts got smart. The robotic ghost had blasted its way into Axion, destroying labs as it went. Vlad had heard the destruction and used his ghost powers to escape the quarantine lab before it was destroyed. He had gained enough control over his abilities by that point that he even used his powers to fend off the ghost. But he hadn't been able to save the thirteen Axion employees that had been killed.

It had been a turning point for them both. Vlad had left Axion behind and began his own business empire, using the profits from the ghost shields. He had ended up purchasing Axion labs himself and began a ghost weapons business using the blueprints and designs recovered from the ruins of Fentonworks. Within a few years Vlad had become one of the wealthiest men alive.

Valerie had kept his secret when Plasmius had appeared in Amity Park to defend it from the ghosts that were causing so much misery. When she was ten years old Vlad found her in the concealed training room of his mansion, shooting target after target. He hadn't said a word, or even questioned how she'd managed to discover and enter the room. He'd presented her with a prototype hoverboard a few weeks later. Their hatred for ghosts, and all they had stolen from them, united them. It took a long time to convince her father, but on her sixteenth birthday, Amity Park had gained a new defender.

The trainyard was packed with people. Valerie couldn't help but be impressed that the grounds of Circus Gothica were already prepared to receive the spectators after only a few short hours to prepare. The huge black tent with its skeletal peak cast a shadow over the crowd. It was even more impressive considering the fact that several small jewelry stores had been mysteriously robbed blind during the night. Mr. Masters hadn't been kidding. At least they were sure that it really was ghosts that were committing the robberies now; one of their ghost sensors placed in strategic points of the town had picked up a few blips during the early hours of the morning.

Valerie steeled herself, and forced her way into the crowd milling around in the train yard. She'd had no idea there were so many goths in Amity Park, but there they were in all their thick eyeliner and dark dyed hair glory. She had attempted to blend in. She had ditched her bright jewelry and headband, and was even wearing the black Ember Mclain shirt she'd bought before Mr. Masters informed her that Ember was actually a ghost siren. _That_ had been an interesting summer.

"Mr. Masters sooo owes me for this." Valerie grumbled, slapping aside another black umbrella whose metal points were a little too close to her face. At least she was getting out of Lancer's lecture on Hemingway. And, as long as she didn't see anyone who knew her, she'd be fine.

"Valerie? What are _you_ doing here?"

"Aw, man," Valerie groaned, "This is just what I need." She turned to face the girl who had spoken. Her violet eyes were looking her up and down in shock.

"Wow. If you're trying to go through a goth phase, I have some suggestions." Sam Manson continued when Valerie didn't say anything. "The first would be to ditch those dorky sunglasses." Valerie tore off her sunglasses, her cheeks burning. The admittedly ugly glasses were actually a part of her ghost hunting equipment, but it wasn't like she could say that.

"Manson," Valerie growled through gritted teeth, "I wish I could say I'm surprised to see you here."

"I wish I could say I care." The dark-haired girl said dismissively.

"You're ditching I'm guessing?" Valerie remembered Manson's parents were the ones leading the protests on Gothica. They would never excuse her from school to be here.

"Tucker's covering for me," Sam said coldly, "I happen to have friends who support my interests." Valerie immediately understood the implied threat in her words.

"You better not tell _anyone_ you saw me here." Valerie pointed a threatening finger at the goth. Sam's eyes widened and she waved her hands sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah. 'Hey everyone! While I was ditching school, I ran into Valerie!'" She dropped her hands and rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Valerie. Your secret's safe with me." Valerie opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as a hushed silence fell over the crowd, and a new voice cut through the air.

"Greetings, fellow outcasts!"

Both girls turned to the largest train car, where a figure had appeared in the dark doorway. The man stepped fully into the light, looking down his unusually long nose at them all and opening his arms wide in welcome. "I am Freakshow! Your Master of Ceremonies."

Valerie tuned out the rest, quickly replacing her sunglasses. She didn't have time to waste on Manson, she had a job to do. Winking twice with each eye, Valerie activated the scanners. The red display took an unusual amount of time before it managed to focus on Freakshow and begin its analysis. A small beep sounded after a few seconds, the results appearing in small red text in the corner.

Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 0

"What?" Valerie muttered, tapping the side of the glasses as if that would change the results. Freakshow was human? Mr. Masters had been so sure that he was a ghost. She directed the glasses once again towards the man who was now speaking with the manic zeal of a preacher, only to get a result even stranger than the first.

Ectoplasmic Energy Level: -5

She hadn't thought it was even possible to register as negative ghost energy. Maybe there was a bug in the equipment? She ran the analysis twice more, just to be sure, but there was no doubt about it. Freakshow was as alive as she was. Maybe in need of a little more sun, but alive.

". . . small sample of the bizarre and abnormal world of Circus Gothica!" Valerie jumped as the end of the ringmaster's speech was punctuated by the sharp twang of an arrow that flew over their heads before burying itself into a post across the trainyard. Her fighter reflexes made her flinch backwards, but thankfully no one noticed. The crowd gasped as a pair of glowing eyes appeared from within the car. Like some kind of insect, a pale woman scuttled out onto the highwire that had been so unexpectedly strung above the crowd. She was closely followed by a juggler, and Valerie carefully scanned each performer as they emerged.

Contortionist, Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 3

Juggler, Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 3

Wheel performer, Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 4

Stilt walker, Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 2

Valerie couldn't believe it, _every single performer_ was a ghost. Vlad had been right! Well, not about Freakshow being a ghost, but the performers were. Valerie felt a surge of loathing as she watched the ghosts moving around the train yard to perform, the goth freaks not even realizing how much danger they were in. These pieces of ectoplasmic filth had no right to be in her world. She wasn't even watching the train car as the last performer emerged, but her scanners beeped frantically, flashing a warning.

"No, way." Valerie breathed.

Ectoplasmic Energy Level: 7.5

That was the closest she'd ever seen to Plasmius's energy level, which had stabilized at a 10 over the past year.

"I know," Sam said beside her, looking a little dreamily at the white haired young man. It took Valerie a second to realize the goth had thought she was talking to her. Her antagonism towards Valerie was apparently forgotten. That, or she didn't remember to whom she was speaking. "His name's Phantom. That trick he's doing is called Diablo." Valerie didn't answer, unable to tear her gaze away from the boy, though she imagined it was for different reasons than Samantha Manson. She shuddered at the thought, and pushed it from her mind so she could analyze the latest performer.

For such a powerful ghost, he didn't look very tough. He looked only a little younger than she was, though he was much more slender. He wore a simple black jumpsuit with white detailing around his neck, wrists, feet, and down his back. His pure white hair almost glowed.

The boys red eyes were narrowed with concentration as he twisted and tumbled gracefully through the crowd, tossing the diablo through the air in complicated patterns. Valerie was forcefully reminded of a spider playing with a fly, the black diablo constantly being snared by the shimmering silver rope slithering through the ghost's nimble hands.

"This is the greatest moment, ever." Manson almost squealed, wriggling happily, "Nothing could ruin this for me!"

"PARENTS OF AMITY PARK!" The entire crowd jumped at the sudden squawk of noise. "We urge you to boycott this morbid assault on the morals of our children!"

Valerie staggered as Sam grabbed her and shoved her in front of her in an attempt to hide, muttering something about having day jobs. The crowd booed as a flood of brightly colored protesters converged on the trainyard. Valerie recognized the Manson's at the forefront. Nonplussed, Valerie watched as the Ringmaster leapt onto a crate, inciting his audience to protest back. She tried to keep an eye on the ghostly performers in the ensuing chaos, but they had literally vanished among the crowd as quickly as Sam had behind her. Eager to leave before the protest got too wild, Valerie turned, nearly tripping over the cowering Sam.

"Out of my way, Manson." She said sharply. She pushed the other girl aside, sending her sprawling. She shoved through the crowd, her mind buzzing with everything she had seen. The last thing she heard as she left the trainyard was the amplified squawk of the megaphone.

"SAM?"

* * *

Oops, looks like Sam got caught! Again, I'd strongly recommend NOT continuing to the next chapter until it has that little Updated at the beginning.

Thanks! Hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4: Center Ring

**Updated**

So here are two familiar scenes that were originally later in the story. They needed to come a little earlier, with some pretty significant changes from the original, so even if you think you know what will happen read until the end! This is the first chapter that the story begins to really veer away from the original plot.

* * *

Night had fallen on Amity Park, and the city was silent and still. There was no movement in the streets. Not even a ghost disturbed the peaceful darkness. No, the only thing that moved under the velvety sky hovered high above the buildings. The silver board gleamed in the moonlight as it slowly circled over downtown. It would have looked like it was steering itself, but the armored legs dangling off the back end gave its rider away. Valerie lay flat on her back, idly watching the ghost radar display in her visor as her board scanned the buildings beneath her.

"You know what I don't get?" Valerie said suddenly, propping herself up on her elbows. "Why would these ghosts be stealing stuff? It's weird enough that they're part of a creepy circus without them being thieves too. That's a really confusing obsession, especially for so many ghosts." For a long moment Valerie wondered if she was talking to herself, but then a sigh crackled over the speaker inside her helmet.

"Ms. Gray, please focus." She could practically see Vlad rubbing his temples back in his lab.

"I'm just saying, it makes no sense." Valerie huffed tiredly, scanning the readouts again. Vlad clearly wasn't in the mood to chat. Not that he ever was, but still. She had been out every night since Circus Gothica had come to Amity Park, patrolling the city until the early hours of the morning. Every single night for the last five days more stores had been robbed, but the culprits were always gone before they could respond to an alert. She was exhausted, but she refused to call it quits before Vlad. If he could stay up every night, then so could she. Besides, he had been adamant that they needed to capture at least one of the ghosts for questioning. Valerie knew he wanted the ghost boy in particular, as he was obviously the ring leader, but she'd take what she could get. It wouldn't be hard to make any of them talk.

They fell into silence once again, and Valerie laid back down on the smooth metal. Her board continued its grid pattern over downtown. Valerie was starting to doze off when a cluster of bright dots appeared on the radar. The scanner let out a shrill beep in her ear and she shot to her feet, instinctively settling into a fighting stance before she realized what was going on.

"Vlad, I've got something." She said urgently. "Five ectoplasmic signatures at the jewelers on 12th East." She guided her board into a steep dive, the sudden plunge sending a rush of adrenaline through her and clearing the exhaustion from her mind.

"Is Phantom there?" He asked immediately. Valerie frowned, leveling out her board as she approached the right street.

"I don't know, but I'm gunna find out."

She swooped to the roof of a building across the street from the jewelry store. Skimming low over the roof, she deactivated her hoverboard. It disappeared under her feet as she smoothly dropped to the concrete, running at a crouch to the edge of the roof. Peeking over the low ridge, she peered across the street. Moonlight filtered through the large windows, its silver mixing with the soft white glow of the ghosts' auras, making the displays of jewelry sparkle. She quickly ducked as one of the figures passed close to the glass.

"Hey, Vlad?" Valerie switched off the night vision on her visor and looked again to make sure she was seeing things correctly. "Didn't you say all the footage at the other robberies didn't show anyone stealing the stuff?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it's going to now. They're all completely visible." Valerie scowled as she read the ectoplasmic energy readings. "And you'll be happy to know that Phantom is definitely in there. I can't see him but there's a huge energy reading on my scanner."

"They've broken their pattern?" Valerie could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Can you see what they're taking?"

"It's weird." Valerie muttered, zooming in on the flickering figures that were busily phasing jewelry into canvas bags. "There's all these displays with diamond jewelry, but they aren't touching any of those. It's the colored gemstones they're taking." She shook a couple of metal spheres into her palm and powered up the containment unit on her wrist. A little smoke was all she would need to distract the ghosts while she captured them. Vlad's voice interrupted her preparations.

"Wait until they leave to engage them."

"What?" Valerie protested, "We've been waiting all week to catch them stealing something. We can't let them get away with it!"

"Confronting five ghosts in close quarters is also a terrible idea."

Valerie scowled, grudgingly admitting to herself that he had a point. Still, she didn't want to see all the hours she'd spent keeping lookout to go to waste. "A little faith here, Vlad! If they're all in a small space, it'll be easier for me to catch them all in one go."

"I don't _care_ if you capture all of them!" Valerie jumped slightly at the anger in his voice. "I just want Phantom." A sigh crackled over the speakers, and Vlad continued in a more reasonable tone. "If they're visible, it means they want to be seen, Ms. Gray. You could be flying into some sort of ambush. Wait until they leave to engage." His tone left no room for argument.

"I don't have a choice now," Valerie muttered, getting to her feet, "They're leaving the store." She could feel the temperature drop from where she stood as the ghosts phased through the roof one by one, bulging bags in their hands. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the ghost boy. Maybe once she captured him, Vlad would stop acting so grouchy.

The ghosts silently took off, flying low over the buildings. Backing up a little, Valerie ran forward and leapt from the roof, her hoverboard appearing beneath her and a plan forming in her mind. She wove through the streets, keeping out of the ghost's sight among the buildings. Brief glimpses of the ghost's glowing auras flickered in the corner of her eye as she sped along a parallel street, easily overtaking them. She curved around a corner, following the side-street until it let her out ahead of the ghosts, giving her time to take a closer look at who she was facing. She hovered in the shadows, watching carefully as they streaked by, oblivious to her presence.

Valerie recognized the ghost boy, of course. He was at the head of the group, setting the pace for the rest of them. He was moving quickly, despite the bulging bag he carried. He was closely followed by a ghost that was completely hidden by a red cloak. Only its glowing eyes and green hands clutching a second bag were visible as it flew by. Valerie resisted the urge to whistle at the sheer size of the next ghost. He looked like he could total a tank just by looking at it. His bulk almost obscured the female ghost keeping pace with him, but her red costume was just visible on his other side. It took a couple seconds for the last of the five ghosts to pass her hiding place. It wasn't hard to see why the dwarf ghost was lagging behind. He could barely lift his bag. It hung beneath him, swinging wildly as he struggled to keep up.

Seeing an opening, Valerie flicked her wrist towards the diminutive ghost, sending a silver throwing star after it. The sharp disk tore through the bag, sending a glittering cascade of stones into the street below. The dwarf ghost screeched to a halt, staring blankly at the stream of jewelry pouring from the bag, the clinking noise uncomfortably loud in the stillness of the street. Looking back for the source of the noise, the other ghosts immediately stopped. They only had a few seconds to take in what had happened before Valerie made her move.

"Hey spooks! Looks like you dropped something." Valerie shouted mockingly, the ectoguns on her wrists powering up with a whine. She shot towards the cluster of ghosts, opening fire as she approached. The ghosts scattered, trying to avoid her weapons. Valerie wheeled around, placing herself directly in the path to Gothica. To her surprise, the ghosts did not flee, but hovered close together, their red glowing eyes looking at her blankly. After a moment, the ghost boy silently handed his own bag to the now empty-handed dwarf, his gloved hands pooling with green energy.

"Don't worry, it's an easy fix." The ghost boy said lightly, his red eyes glowing. The street lit up with an eerie green glow as each piece of jewelry that had fallen was surrounded by the ghost's energy. The stones flew back to the ghost, circling around him like a miniature storm. Valerie frowned as the targeting feature on her display began to glitch, trying to lock onto the rapidly moving gemstones instead of the ghosts.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but you aren't the one we're interested in, and we really should be going." His voice darkened threateningly.

"You're not going anywhere you ectoplasmic freaks!"

Missiles no bigger than pencils sprang from the board, shooting rapidly towards their targets. The boy snapped his hand outward, sending a hail of gemstones in response. The missiles immediately honed in on the glowing stones, blasting them to powder. Smoke, flame and glittering dust clouded the air, obscuring the ghosts from view. A high-pitched whistle filled the air.

Valerie shouted in pain and alarm as dozens of stones slammed into her, almost knocking her from the board. Her suit started squawking as damage reports filled the screen. With a sharp crack, a ruby earring embedded itself into her visor right in front of her left eye. She shot upwards, trying to get clear of the smoke and out of the way of the stones that were shredding her armor.

The ghosts had taken advantage of the distraction their leader had provided. By the time she rose above the debris, they had scattered in every direction. Except for one. The ghost boy remained where he was, looking very small without his cloud of jewelry.

"You're dead, ghost!" Valerie shouted, trying to hide her unease as she realized just how damaged her armor really was. Almost every system was either damaged or completely disabled, including all of her more powerful weapons. Even the containment unit on her wrist had taken some damage. She quickly activated one of the only weapons that was still functioning.

"Was that a threat? Or were you just pointing out the obvious?" The ghost boy asked, sounding amused. Valerie scowled and fired the weapon, more out of spite than anything. The ghost didn't even flinch as the dart sank into his thigh, though his gray aura almost immediately dimmed. She had seen those darts knock a level three ghost out cold, so it had to sting. The ghost yanked the shaft from his leg, tossing it away without looking at it.

"Oh, please," His red eyes narrowed in arrogant slits. "You think that can stop me?"

"Maybe not. But it's definitely going to slow you down. That dart drains ectoplasmic energy." Valerie said coldly. Even as she spoke, Phantom's aura flickered and he dropped a couple feet. His eyes widened in shock.

"Game on, ghost." Valerie taunted, trying to activate the beam that would suck the ghost into the containment unit. "I'll give you a head start." He didn't wait to be told twice. The ghost boy took off back the way he'd come, his legs blurring together into a black spectral tail as he fled.

"Vlad, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm flying blind." Valerie tore after the fleeing ghost. "Flight correction is down, autotargeting is down, weapons are unresponsive. My containment unit is showing an energy leak, but I should have enough for one good shot, but I'm going to have to get in close quarters." She groaned as the display on her visor went completely blank with a small pop. She turned her full attention to the black and white blur that was the ghost boy, flying as fast as she dared after him. "Man, this ghost can move!" Even with the energy draining serum pumping through him, the ghost boy was flying incredibly fast. He wove through the buildings, trying to lose her.

She zipped around the corner only to have something silver swing at her face. Valerie shouted and ducked, barely avoiding the blade of a large scythe as it cut through the air. The ghost obviously did not expect to miss. His red eyes widened as Valerie slammed into him, the force knocking her clean off her board. They both tumbled heavily to the street below.

Somewhat cushioned by her armor, Valerie recovered first. She staggered to her feet, blinking away spots. She heard a groan and turned. The ghost boy was getting to his feet a couple yards away, leaning heavily on his scythe. His gray aura flickered weakly. Valerie had no idea where the scythe had come from, but by the way it was glowing, she knew she didn't want it anywhere near her.

Before the ghost could recover, Valerie pulled a small gun from a holster at her waist. It powered up with a whine, and the ghost boy's head snapped up at the sound. Valerie didn't hesitate. A red blast erupted from her weapon. Faster than humanly possible, the ghost swung his scythe. The blade cut through her blast before it could reach him, absorbing the energy with a low hum. Before she could process what he had done, he lightly tossed the weapon in the air to shift his grip, and swung the scythe again. Valerie dove and rolled out of the way as the red blast she had fired came shooting back at her.

The ghost boy shot into the air, only to come crashing back down as the effects of the dart sucked away even more of his energy. Valerie tossed her gun aside, it only had one shot anyways, running at the ghost boy before he could regain his balance. Shooting at him was obviously not the best idea. She needed to get that scythe away from him.

The ghost heard her coming and jumped back to his feet. He went to swing the scythe again, but was too slow. They locked together, their faces only inches apart, wrestling for control of the glowing blade. His red eyes glared at her, lit by sheer malice. Valerie slammed her knee into his stomach, but he stubbornly clung to his weapon. Her damaged suit whined from the pressure as he used all of his strength to try and rip it from her hands. Twisting suddenly, she braced herself and flung the ghost clean over her, tearing the scythe from his grip. He hit the asphalt with a sharp thud. Valerie stomped down on his chest, pinning him in place.

"Sleep tight, spook." Valerie growled. He hissed, writhing under her foot as the containment unit on her wrist finally hummed to life. The bright blue beam latched onto the ghost, shrinking him down and sucking him into the small cylinder. The scythe vanished from her hand as the ghost disappeared.

The sudden silence was almost deafening. Valerie swayed slightly, her exhaustion crashing back into her. She looked down as something nudged her calves. Her board was bumping against her softly, as if apologizing for not catching her earlier. Valerie sighed and stepped onto the board, wearily turning it towards Vlad's mansion.

"This ghost better be worth it."

* * *

Vlad gathered the last of the tools from a table in his lab, carefully phasing them into one of the many hidden alcoves in the walls. His cold eyes kept straying to the innocent looking cylinder sitting alone on the long counter on the opposite side of the room. After Phantom's display with the gemstones, Vlad had decided it would be wise to not leave anything that could be used as a weapon sitting out in his lab. He was going to be dangerous enough to deal with as it was. Finished, he strode over, snatching up the container

Ms. Gray had offered to stay while he interrogated Phantom, but Vlad had refused. He had almost gone out into the field when the readings on Valerie's suit began to fail, but she had come out on top, as she always had, without his help. Still, she was obviously dead on her feet. He knew he had been pushing her too hard, but the prospect of catching the ghosts of Gothica red handed was too tempting. Especially if it meant he could capture Phantom and cut the snake at its head. It had been a long time since he'd come across a ghost with such a high energy level. Besides, as efficient as Valerie was as a ghost hunter, the hot headed girl liked to shoot first, and ask questions later. Vlad, however, preferred to play with his food.

Vlad turned over the small cylinder in his hands, feeling a surge of pleasure that he literally held the afterlife of his latest enemy in his hands. He could destroy Phantom so easily. A flick of a switch, and the refined Fenton thermos could send a surge of destabilizing energy through its contents. Phantom was already weakened by Ms. Gray's dart, he wouldn't stand a chance. His finger hovered contemplatively over the switch, but then he sighed.

No. No, that would be too easy. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity. He had too many questions that demanded answers for him to just destroy Phantom. That, and he wasn't above admitting that he wanted to see Phantom squirm a little before he destroyed him. It was the least the ghost deserved for daring to enter his territory. Personal desires aside, he supposed he owed it to Ms. Gray to show some results for all her efforts. She had taken quite the beating. Nothing she couldn't handle, of course. She really was very good at what she did, despite her age. She had his respect, something very few could claim.

He couldn't prevent his lip from curling as black rings of energy formed around his waist, splitting apart to reveal his ghost form. Even now, nearly ten years after his first transformation, it still disgusted him. It wasn't enough that he'd lost everyone he loved because of ghosts. No, instead of being left to mourn in peace, he'd been mutated into something he'd never believed existed. Something he couldn't help but hate. He turned away from the wavy reflection reaching his gaze from the glass cases all around the room His deathly blue skin and red eyes sickened him, but his uniform covered as much of his form from sight as possible. Even his hands were gloved. Still, even he could appreciate the symbolism of his ghostly appearance. It was poetic really. What better form than a demon for one whose only desire was to punish the souls of the departed? He smiled at the thought.

Plasmius rose into the air, giving his laboratory one last look over. Weapons and blueprints had been hidden, the tables shifted out of the way. Even the battle suit Ms. Gray had so recently left behind to be repaired had been carefully stored. He flew to the wall where a control panel blinked innocently. With a few short commands, a ghost shield powered up. The shimmering pink energy rose in a large circle in the center of the room until it arced to create a complete dome. Plasmius looked at it critically. It wasn't a perfect cage, but it would be able to hold Phantom while he had his fun. He'd really have to look into the idea of an official interrogation room. He had never needed to actually speak to any of the ectoplasmic filth before, beyond assuring them of their impending destruction, but if it could happen now, he supposed it could happen again. He certainly wasn't lacking space or resources.

Plasmius inserted the cylinder into the receptacle on the panel, locking it into place with a quick twist. He couldn't say that he didn't have some reservations about what was about to happen. Phantom was undeniably the leader of the ghosts at Gothica, not one of the others came close to him in power. That meant that whatever power that would temporarily daze him whenever he saw anything related to Circus Gothica had to come from Phantom. Plasmius closed his eyes and straightened, banishing any trace of hesitation from his posture. He had to remain in control, especially if the ghost boy tried to use his hypnotic powers. He refused to let this ghost control him again. Plasmius' face tightened into a scowl, his solid red eyes darkening with conviction. He didn't look down as he reversed the flow of the slender cylinder and pressed the release button.

An echoing yell accompanied the flash of blue light as the ghost boy was expelled into the small ghost dome. Plasmius watched impassively as he tumbled heavily to the floor. After a few long moments, Phantom slowly floated upright, his back to Plasmius.

"Ugh, what hit me?" Phantom groaned, shaking his head slowly before peering around himself in a daze. "Where am I?" The ghost tensed as he caught sight of the shimmering shield that surrounded him.

The sight of the glowing pink shield was obviously a new one, as the boy lifted a hand to touch it. Plasmius said nothing, secretly amused that he'd have the pleasure to see the ghost shock itself. But, before the boy's outstretched fingers could make contact with the shimmering dome, a puff of mist emerged from his mouth. The boy gasped and spun around to face Plasmius, his clenched fists flaring with energy.

Plasmius did not appreciate the threatening posture the boy had taken, though he could see that Phantom was in no condition to fight. The serum from the dart was probably just beginning to take full effect. Phantom was barely staying off the ground, and a light sheen of sweat covered his brow. The energy abruptly vanished from the Phantom's hands, though Plasmius couldn't tell if it was because of confusion or exhaustion.

"And who are you supposed to be? A Dracula reject?"

Plasmius frowned at the impertinent ghost in front of him. Ms. Gray had been very clear that the ghostly teen had red eyes and a muted grey aura. How many variations could one ghost have? The boy in front of him had luminous green eyes, and his aura, though flickering dramatically, was clearly white. At least the hair and clothes were right.

" _I_ am Vladimir Plasmius," He said haughtily, "You were apprehended while trespassing on and stealing from _my_ territory. So, I believe the more appropriate question, is who are _you_ supposed to be?" Plasmius didn't want to give away what he already knew, even if it was just the ghost's name.

" _You're_ Plasmius?" Phantom asked, clearly unimpressed by Plasmius's accusation. " _You're_ the one we've been looking for?" Plasmius frowned as the ghost's face cracked into a slightly insane smile as he laughed. " _You're_ Plasmius," Phantom repeated, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Are you done?" Plasmius snapped as Phantom's laughter began to calm. His question just made the ghostly teen start laughing again.

"And Big Red, who's she supposed to be, Pariah Dark?" Phantom choked out, actually landing on the floor so he could focus on laughing.

"I beg your pardon?" Plasmius said coldly. The urge to destroy the ghost where he stood was growing exponentially, but he remained aloof. Big red? Pariah Dark? What did he mean, they had been looking for him?

"The Red Huntress, the one who was chasing me." Phantom clarified, calm once more though still smiling widely as he casually flipped his white hair out of his eyes. "What happened with her anyways? I don't remember a thing."

Plasmius folded his arms sternly and raised an eyebrow. "I asked her to bring you here, of course."

"She works for _you_?" Phantom looked at him appraisingly before abruptly changing the subject. "Did the others get away?"

It took Plasmius a moment to understand to whom the ghost was referring. It had almost sounded like Phantom was genuinely concerned about them. "Your crew members were allowed to escape."

"Well, that was a stupid move on your part." Phantom informed him.

Plasmius scowled at him. The boy was relaxing into a sarcastically confident attitude. It was infuriating. "I'm more than prepared to fend off a couple level three ghosts." Plasmius watched Phantom closely for his reaction. As the leader of such a large group of ghosts, he would surely not hesitate to boast about their number or strength.

Phantom just laughed and sat back down, casually leaning back on the palms of his hands. "I wouldn't underestimate my mom. She's gonna be pissed."

"Be that as it may, I doubt your "mother" could breach this shield. We have time, Phantom, so let's talk about you."

"Me?" Phantom's eyes widened in surprise, especially when Plasmius used his name.

"If I had wanted to talk about your little dwarf henchman, I would have asked the huntress to capture _him_." Plasmius said sardonically.

Phantom laughed. "Fair point. What did you go through all this trouble to ask me?"

"What are you doing in Amity Park?" Plasmius growled, his voice low and dangerous. Phantom's attitude was irritating him beyond belief.

"Hanging out," Phantom said indifferently, absently fiddling with an onyx stud in his ear and looking around the lab. "Stealing stuff. Talking to nosy vampire ghosts, apparently."

"Computer?" Plasmius snapped, "Initiate Ghost Shield 3's offense program and increase by three hundred percent."

A smooth female voice filled the room in response. "Command Registered"

"Wait, what?" Phantom said dumbly, dropping his hand. His question was answered for him as the ghost shield's interior erupted in an electrical storm. The crackling electricity was almost drowned out by the ghost's anguished scream. Plasmius felt his face stretch in a cruel smile as the ghost boy writhed in agony. The boy had no idea how much his surviving the next few minutes without injury depended on his cooperation. He waited a few moments before he felt he'd made his point.

"Computer, restore Ghost Shield 3 to its original function."

"Command registered."

Phantom collapsed. Before he could regain his bearings, Plasmius stalked forward, passing harmlessly through the shield and grabbed the hyperventilating ghost by the throat. Phantom immediately clutched at Plasmius' wrist as he was lifted clean off the floor, white gloves trying to find purchase on black.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN AMITY PARK?" Plasmius growled. When Phantom didn't immediately respond, he shook him roughly.

"You think I want to be here?" Phantom choked out, his green eyes screwed in pain, "If it were up to me, we would have _never_ come here!"

"Don't play games with _me_ , Phantom. I know you're the little ringleader, so. start. talking." Phantom had the gall to laugh, his voice barely rasping its way past the iron grip around his throat.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Phantom challenged, his eyes dancing. Plasmius's fingers tightened, his hand almost completely wrapping around the ghosts slender neck. He had not forced himself through years of training and plotting and clawing his way to the reputation he had among ghosts and humans for this child to _taunt_ him.

"You'd be very foolish not to be." His voice deepened in warning.

"Well, I'm not! You want to know why?" Phantom spat, still struggling against his grip, "Because there's nothing you _could_ do that would be worse than what my master _will_ do if I tell you anything!" Plasmius froze, his anger replaced by surprise.

"Master?" He repeated. Phantom's eyes went wide with horror as he realized what he had just said. As Plasmius stared into Phantom's suddenly terrified eyes, searching them for any sign of deceit, a memory sprang unbidden to his mind of the last time he'd seen such frightened green eyes.

 _Daniel's tear-filled eyes locked on to Vlad's, shining green as they reflected the eerie light. The torrent of energy exploding towards them as a hole was ripped in reality._

Plasmius released Phantom as though he'd been burned. Phantom fell to the floor, his white aura fluctuating badly as he coughed, massaging his throat. Vlad forced the memory down, disturbed that it had come up at all, and tried to focus on the ghost in front of him.

Phantom wasn't afraid of him. That much was very clear. He hadn't panicked when he'd realized he was trapped. He hadn't flinched as Plasmius threatened him. He hadn't so much as blinked when he'd had him by the throat. Only at the mention of his 'master' had he shown true fear.

Phantom had a _master_? How was that possible? Plasmius's mind kicked into overdrive. The ghosts were travelling as a circus troupe, they needed someone who could navigate all the twists and turns of the human entertainment industry. Someone whose authority was uncontested. Someone who would benefit from all the stolen money. Someone he'd completely disregarded in favor of Phantom.

How was this possible?

"The ringmaster." Plasmius muttered quietly.

"You need to let me go."

Plasmius jolted back to reality at the flat statement. Phantom had retreated to the other side of the dome, watching him warily. As quickly as it had come, the fear in Phantom's eyes was gone, once again hidden behind a wall of scorn. "The others will have told him what happened. They'll come looking. I don't want you anywhere near me when he finds me."

"As I said earlier, Phantom," Plasmius said calmly, "I'm not worried about any of your 'master's' minions, and I'm even less afraid of him."

"You don't understand." Phantom shook his head, resentment clear in his voice. "My master has spoken of you. The 'ghostly protector of Amity Park'. He wants you to join the cast."

As caught up as he was by all he had discovered in the last few minutes, Plasmius scoffed. As if there was anything that could tempt him to work for _Freakshow_. The man was clearly fit for an insane asylum. Yet, if Phantom's words could be trusted, the man somehow had about three dozen ghosts completely loyal to him. Add that to the list of ever growing questions about this whole affair.

"Forget it, Phantom. You won't be going anywhere."

"Look, I don't _want_ to be enemies," Phantom said hotly, standing up shakily. "I mean, sure, you've been kind of annoying, but I don't want to fight you. Your time is almost up." He fell into a coughing fit, clutching his already bruising throat.

"Well, luckily you won't have to worry about how much "time" I have left. You've outlived your usefulness." Plasmius sneered, making up his mind. "If Freakshow is truly your master, then you are merely a pawn and I have no further need of you. I hope you have a slow death." He called for the computer as he strode away. "Computer, reactivate Ghost Shield . . ."

"Plasmius, wait!" Phantom yelled, running forward. "You can't go to Gothica!" His outstretched hand brushed the pink shield that Plasmius had just passed through. A sharp ZAP sent the boy tumbling, and Plasmius turned.

"There's no escaping this ghost shield, Phantom." Plasmius assured him, but Phantom paid him no heed. Plasmius frowned as the ghost once more struggled to his knees, his thin arms wrapping around himself as if trying to hold himself together. The ghost shield didn't shock _that_ hard.

"No, no, no, no, no." Phantom whimpered. What happened next would remain ingrained in Plasmius's mind for years. In a flash, two pale white rings appeared around the boy's waist, swiftly traveling apart from one another. Plasmius stared in shock at the too familiar transformation. He felt a wave of vertigo hit him and he stumbled slightly. Phantom looked down in dismay at his now solid form, his dark hair hiding his face.

" _You_. . .Not possible. . .you're. . .!" Plasmius sputtered. Dark spots clouded his vision as he tried to comprehend what he'd just seen. One clear thought formed in numb mind.

 _Halfa._

Unbidden, Plasmius's legs pushed him forward, crossing the room and passing through the ghost shield once more.

The pale human boy looked up at him in terror as Plasmius bore down on him, his glittering blue eyes wide. He stumbled to his feet and backed away until he reached the other side of the dome. Realizing he was cornered, Phantom halted and stood his ground as Plasmius entered the ghost shield, raising his chin arrogantly.

"Surprised?" Phantom taunted,"Well, that's not my only trick!"

Plasmius could hardly comprehend what the boy was saying, his mind was spinning too fast. _Halfa_. It couldn't be! _He_ was the only half ghost hybrid in the world! He'd gained his powers because of a freak accident with a ghost portal, there was _no one_ else who could have gained them the same way.

 _Unless_. . . Plasmius forced himself to cut that idea before it could fully form, and continued to close the distance between himself and Phantom. Plasmius didn't know what he intended to do, he just needed to be sure, he needed to touch the boy. Somehow that would help him understand what was going on. Phantom's blue eyes glowed as Plasmius's hand rose.

A flash of freezing energy exploded from the boy, encasing everything around him in solid ice. Unfortunately for him, that included Plasmius. Frozen in place, his outstretched hand inches from Phantom's face, the cold smacked the sense back into him. Had he lost his mind? Plasmius tried turning intangible to escape, but quickly found he could not. Phantom casually brushed off his palms, though his face gleamed with sweat.

"I'm going to use that trick in a new magic act I'm working on," Phantom said conversationally, "I think I'm going to call it _Frostbite_ , but I'm not sure yet. _Black Ice_ is pretty catchy too. What do you think?" Phantom paused, looking expectantly at him as if expecting an answer. Laughing at his own joke, Phantom stepped away from Plasmius's outstretched hand. "Now, how do I get out of here?"

Out of the corner of his eye Plasmius watched the boy pressed his hands together, as if in prayer, then pulled them apart rapidly. A glowing scythe materialized in his hands. Plasmius felt a surge of dread as the weapon appeared. If Ms. Gray was right, it had the power to absorb and redirect energy. He could not remain in such a vulnerable position, Phantom had no reason to _not_ use the weapon against him.

Phantom paid him no mind though, and inspected the pink shield for a moment. With a single, fluid motion he swung his scythe. The glittering blade sliced cleanly through the energy, and a large rent appeared in the shield as the weapon absorbed the energy with a low hum. Phantom nodded with satisfaction.

"Sorry about the mess, but that ice should melt pretty soon, and I really should get going." Phantom stepped through the torn shield and turned back to Plasmius, "I would tell you to come see the show, but it's really in your best interest to stay away from Circus Gothica. I'll be in it for the rest of my afterlife, and I sure as hell don't want _you_ to be a part of it."

Plasmius struggled anew at the boy's words. _Wait!_ He wanted to shout. Phantom could _not_ be allowed to escape! His core flared, its hot energy fighting to melt the glowing ice that surrounded him. His efforts were apparently in vain, as he couldn't move a muscle, and Phantom completely ignored him.

With a flick of his wrist Phantom's scythe disappeared. The teen quickly turned intangible, and vanished through the ceiling, leaving a stunned Plasmius alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Surprised? Confused? Let me know what you thought!

Hope to see you soon!


	5. Chapter 5: Giver of the Game

**Updated**

 **Hey guys, thank you so much for the awesome reviews and amazing support! I've started school again, so I will probably be doing just one chapter a week. That's my goal at least. I'm hoping you guys are liking the new Calliope. If you have any questions or comments, I love to respond!**

* * *

The dawning sun stretched its rays over Amity Park, marking the beginning of a new day. For Circus Gothica, the appearance of the sun only marked the end of the night, the only time of day that mattered. And this night was to be the greatest of them all.

Booths were appearing all over the grounds, the last of the bleachers erected and music randomly blasting from the tent as the sound system was put through its paces. The skeletal figure atop Circus Gothica's tent cast a pale shadow over the bustling train yard. The show was to go on tonight, and all needed to be ready.

No one gave heed to the sleek sports car that had been stalling outside the gated entrance for some time. The agitation and movement in the trainyard were nothing compared to the turmoil taking place in the car's polished interior.

"I am losing my mind." Vlad thought grimly to himself. His hands tightened on the wheel, and he forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose. Thankfully the tinted windows shielded him from view.

The last few hours had easily been some of the worst of Vlad's life. As Phantom had promised, the ice eventually vanished. His mind had taken much longer to "unfreeze", so to speak, but he had eventually arrived at the only conclusion that could be drawn. It was the reason he had driven to Circus Gothica, only to sit with his foot frozen on the brake as he stared at the black tent looming on the other side of the gate.

Phantom was a halfa. There was no doubt about it. The odds of another accident like his taking place was statistically impossible, which only left one feasible possibility. There was only one person that this young halfa could be.

Daniel.

Dozens of photographs were currently scattered all over his lab. Every scrap of photographic evidence of Daniel Fenton's existence that had survived the explosion of Fentonworks. Birthdays, trips to the park, haircuts, swimming for the first time, the living turkey incident at Christmas. Dozens of photos of a perfect little boy, but not nearly enough to give Vlad the certainty he needed. The internet had proven a useful ally. Phantom had appeared on Circus Gothica's cast five years ago, but photos of the young boy were scarce, and images of his human half even more so. More and more photos had appeared as the boy got older. He apparently had quite the following on the internet. Even with few photos, the resemblance was undeniable. Yet, still he hesitated.

Vlad shifted uneasily in his seat as all the reasons he should _not_ be where he was once again flashed through his mind. Circus Gothica was the lair of dozens of ghosts. None of them posed a threat to him individually, but as a group they would prove a formidable opponent. Not to mention the Ringmaster, who, through means unknown, was able to literally hypnotize him. Going in there would be suicide. Even Phantom had warned him away.

A single thought blew all his inhibitions away as it whispered a single word.

Daniel.

Well, in the end there was only one decision he _could_ make. If there was even the slightest chance that Phantom was his Daniel, he would walk barefoot through hell to investigate. He had no idea what he would do if his suspicions were confirmed, but one thing was for sure. If this turned out to be a false hope. . .if he was just grasping at the wind. . .He wasn't sure he could bear it. The self-loathing and sorrow that simmered inside him surged, and he promised himself that if he was mistaken, he would raze Gothica to the ground.

 _It's a good thing Ms. Gray is not here._ Vlad thought grimly. _She would think me such a fool._ Before his strategic side could try to dissuade him further, he exited the car, leaving it open and running. He couldn't care less if anyone stole it. The only thing that mattered now was waiting inside that tent.

* * *

Vlad Masters was used to being noticed.

Over the last ten years, his rapid rise to wealth and influence had drawn the constant attention of the human world. His hybrid nature and merciless hatred for all ghosts did the same in the ghost zone.

So, when Vlad entered the dark tent that was swarming with the activity of both humans and ghosts, a flicker of annoyance twisted his mouth when no one seemed to immediately notice his presence, though he did not relax in the slightest. If he was going to make it out of this wretched place unscathed, he would need to keep a low profile. The only semblance of a plan he had was to slip among the crowd of workers and find the boy before anyone _ghostly_ noticed. He didn't have the slightest idea what he would do if he arrived at that point, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. First, he needed to find the boy. He set off around the edge of the tent, the back of his neck prickling with the sensation that he was being watched.

He had only made it a few yards before he was forced to duck out of sight behind the framework being built to hold the rows of seats. He'd caught sight of the one person he hoped to avoid at any cost. Vlad held his breath, bracing himself against the numb sensation that would undoubtedly try to seize his mind. This was _not_ part of the plan. He could _not_ lose control! But the sensation never came.

Vlad watched through narrowed eyes as an unnaturally pale man stormed past his hiding spot. Freakshow's trench coat flared dramatically behind him as he bore down on the workers constructing a low barrier nearby. One claw-like hand clutched a clip-board, and his other hand, while empty, waved in frustration at the crew as he yelled.

"You idiots! We may be a freakshow, but even _I_ know that center ring needs to be in the _center_ of the tent!" The man's furious voice rose over the noise. "We open _tonight_! I need a ring to master!"

He was obviously in a high temper with the group of workers he had hired from Amity Park to install the vast amount of staging and lights that a circus, even a dark one like Gothica, needed to run. The workers were clearly more interested in watching the performers practice than their own responsibilities.

Vlad quickly took advantage of the ringmaster's distracted state. He slipped around the edge of the tent, staying out of sight behind the raised bleachers. The gaps between the steps and benches offered glimpses of what was taking place in the center of the tent. His skin prickled in response to the ghostly energy that hung in the air as thickly as the dust. If Ms. Gray was correct in her guess that every performer at Gothica was a ghost, then there were over two dozen within the tent at the moment. He carefully watched the melee of activities going on around him, combing through the hordes for the object of his search.

Vlad was grudgingly impressed by these ghosts' abilities to mask themselves. At first glance, they appeared completely human, bizarre props and stage makeup aside. Even so, no disguise is perfect.

The gigantic man juggling an astonishing number of flaming skulls was not sweating in the intense heat given off by his props. The contortionist warming up nearby was not breathing. A heavily pierced, corseted woman sitting on the opposite side of the ring was staring, unblinking, at the high ceiling of the tent.

Though none of the performers appeared to notice him as he made his way around the edge of the ring, the back of his neck prickled again with the assurance that he was being watched. His gaze restlessly swept the tent over and over again.

The staring woman.

The juggler with his skulls.

Technicians hoisting lights to the catwalks high above.

The contortionist in a position he couldn't even begin to describe.

The ringmaster still shouting at a group of embarrassed workers.

A pack of clowns that all bore an unusual number of teeth.

Where the devil was Phantom?

As he made to cross the break in the bleachers at the opposite end of the tent, Vlad's gaze landed once again on the corseted woman, her unnatural stillness unnerving him. What was she _staring_ at? A sudden suspicion took hold, and his head snapped upwards.

The high wire was stretched taut across the length of the tent. In the exact center a scythe was standing upright with the slender form of a boy crouched with impossible balance on the blade. Vlad froze as the boy's gaze bored into him, pinning him in place with the intensity of his narrowed eyes.

Vlad wasn't sure how long they stared at each other. Despite the surges of both relief and dread he felt at having located the boy, he kept his face carefully blank, and his posture calm. But, to Vlad's irritation, the boy jerked his head dismissively and looked away. The teen shifted his weight from his feet to a single palm and slowly lifted his entire body up until he was completely vertical to the floor.

Finding himself able to breathe again, now that the boy wasn't paralyzing him with his stare, Vlad's eyes narrowed. Was the boy ignoring him? Only the fact that the ghostly teen could be his Daniel kept his temper in check. He took advantage of the moment to closely analyze the boy. He couldn't let his personal desires influence his perception. He had to be objective.

Unlike the rest of the cast he had seen, the boy was certainly human. Even from where Vlad was standing, he could see the boy was breathing deeply. His muscles shook slightly as he shifted from his single armed handstand, gracefully flowing into a new pose. A faint gleam of sweat shone near the teen's dark hairline. Vlad couldn't deny it, there was absolutely no sign of anything supernatural about the child. Except, perhaps, his amazing balance. Vlad stared at the young figure, his heart starting to beat faster as hope unfurled in his chest. He hadn't dared to hope, but with each second that passed, the more certain he became. His euphoria was sharply checked when a smooth voice cut into his racing thoughts.

"Incredible, isn't it?"

Vlad tensed, cursing himself for his lapse of attention. The ringmaster didn't seem to notice the reaction he had caused as he drew near. His dull red eyes had followed Vlad's gaze to the figure on the high wire.

"You see he's the _youngest_ of my cast. Though, I suppose they all started a little _late._ " The ringmaster's crowing laugh grated on Vlad's nerves, though he kept his expression neutral. How could he have been so inattentive? How long would it take for the hypnotic effect to hit him? If he was discovered here, he was doomed.

"You have a unique cast, Showenhower." Vlad admitted after a long moment. Once again, the ringmaster's voice and presence was having absolutely no effect on him. He couldn't understand it. Could it be that Freakshow wasn't the source of it after all? "One can't help but wonder how you manage them all."

Freakshow bared his teeth in a smile, obviously annoyed that Vlad had used his real name. "Of course, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Vlad tensed at the implications of the ringmaster's words.

"I command a small troupe, but you manage such _lucrative_ companies. Not to mention an entire city, Mayor Masters." Vlad relaxed, inwardly frowning at his apprehension. Freakshow hadn't been alluding to his alternate identity. There was no way the man could know. "It's _intoxicating_ to have so much power, isn't it?"

Vlad couldn't help but notice Freakshow's equal comparison of their influences. The man obviously liked to flaunt his power. Perhaps he would be able to gain some information from their unfortunate encounter.

"It's all a matter of having the right tools," Vlad said slyly.

"Oh, I agree!" Freakshow laughed again. The loud sound was starting to get on his nerves. It was beyond infuriating to Vlad that this scarecrow of a man was the only piece of this whole puzzle that didn't make any sense. How was Freakshow human? Was he being possessed? Was he truly controlling the ghosts? Did he even realize the danger he was surrounded by? He was either very stupid or very brave.

"I must say I was flattered to receive the city's invitation to perform here in Amity Park." Freakshow said, idly brushing off his trench coat. "What inspired your decision?"

"Irony." Freakshow's hand paused in its motion, and his red eyes flicked up to meet his. Vlad shrugged. "A gothic circus for a haunted town."

"Ah, yes." Freakshows eyes gleamed, and he dropped his hand completely. "I've seen the footage of course. I'd be very, ah, _interested_ to catch a glimpse of the town mascot. I'm a little surprised I haven't already, though I'm sure it's just a matter of time."

"I'm afraid Plasmius is not one to be easily predicted or controlled," Vlad said arrogantly. He was going to ignore the mascot jab. Freakshow's expression darkened, but Vlad continued smoothly, pretending not to notice. "In the meantime, I'm afraid I have a favor to ask of you, Showenhower." Even if whatever hypnotic power he had feared wasn't a threat at the moment, he needed to get out of Gothica before he was discovered. Though that didn't mean he was going to leave without what he'd come here for. And Freakshow was going to give it to him.

Freakshow spread his arms in a mocking bow. "Anything I control is at your service, my dear mayor." Vlad suppressed a sneer at his groveling. Instead he gave a longsuffering sigh.

"My niece is rather smitten with your show, and especially with a certain tightrope walker. Is there any way you could introduce me to the boy that has caught my dear niece's attention?"

"Such a simple request is an insult to a man of my resources, but if that is what you wish. . ." Freakshow turned his gaze back to the tightrope. The boy was walking along the cord with ease, his scythe prop slung casually across his shoulders. Freakshow made a loud, almost chirping noise. Vlad suppressed his unease as every performer in the tent froze, their heads swiveling to the Ringmaster in unison.

"Boy! Center ring!" Freakshow called, unperturbed.

The boy's head jerked in surprise, and he stared down at the ringmaster for several moments. Then, with a fluid motion, he flung his scythe towards the ground. It twirled rapidly in the air before sinking blade first into the dirt, quivering to a halt with the handle horizontal to the floor. Vlad stared at it. The scythe was real? How were the boy's hands not in shreds?

"Hey, Muscles!" There was barely suppressed laughter in Phantom's voice as he called to the massive juggler who had had the misfortune of choosing to stand directly beneath the high wire. "Catch!"

Vlad bit back a gasp as the boy leapt from the high wire, flipping neatly through the air as he hurtled towards the ground.

The juggler flinched when he realized what was happening, and the steady loop of objects he had been deftly throwing clattered to the ground as he abandoned them to prevent his fellow cast member from smashing into the dirt. He barely managed to get his enormous arms out in time, grunting slightly as the boy slammed into him.

"Aw, thanks, Muscles!" The boy said sweetly, apparently unhurt. "I always knew you cared!" He patted the ghost's cheek condescendingly as he was placed on his feet. The only response he received was a sharp whack upside the head as the juggler bent down to retrieve his props, sending the boy staggering a few paces.

Phantom recovered quickly and tossed his dark, unevenly cut hair out of his eyes. A small smile tugged at his mouth as he strode towards the waiting men. The ringmaster appeared bored by the whole display, and began talking as the boy quickly came to stand by his side.

"This is Mayor Masters, boy. He requested to meet you."

Phantom bowed deeply, throwing one hand to his heart and the other behind him. The look in his eyes somehow made the respectful posture insulting.

Vlad had to remind himself to breathe.

It was all there. How had he not seen it the first time they'd met? The delicate nose, the large blue eyes carefully lined in dark stage makeup, the crooked smile. It was all so familiar. Not wanting to stare at the boy's face, he let his gaze drop to the rest of the boy. He tried to hide his distaste for the boy's ripped pants, bare feet, shirt that looked like it had probably come from Gothica's reject merchandise. It was October, where were the boy's shoes?

"It's always a pleasure to meet the giver of the game." The boy straightened and pinned Vlad in his blue-eyed stare once again. "Come to embrace your dark side, Mayor Masters?"

As much as his head was spinning, the boy's words reminded him of where he was, and the role he was expected to play. It was time to give his own performance.

"I hardly need a circus to do that, my boy." Vlad drawled, and made a point of brushing the dust from his white shirt before he continued. "I'm here to greet the cast of this fine company, and make sure you're all settling in well. It's the least I can do, considering I'm sponsoring your presence here."

The ringmaster's expression darkened at his unsubtle reminder of their dependence on his approval, but the boy appeared unimpressed. He was absentmindedly plucking off the leather half gloves that were covering his palms, and snapping them onto his belt. Vlad's attention was suddenly sidetracked. Why was the boy wearing so many belts? He didn't understand, there had to be at least three of them.

"A flattering notion for a humble circus." Freakshow interjected, scowling at the boy's flippant attitude. The boy immediately shrunk, dropping his confident pose and looking intently at the ground.

"I'm afraid I don't know your name," Vlad said, the interaction not going unnoticed by him. "I promised my niece I would ask. She was very impressed by your performance at the opening ceremonies." His voice was indifferent, giving no indication how important the response was to him.

Phantom hesitated. His eyes flicked almost imperceptibly towards the ringmaster as his hand crept to the back of his neck and fidgeted with the leather choker that rested there. Vlad's heart constricted as he noticed the blotchy bruises that the boy's choker didn't quite cover.

"Your niece may come to any performance of his that she wishes." Freakshow said smoothly, shifting casually to block the boy from view. "The boy's tightrope act is titled _Reaper_ , and he does a delightfully terrifying act on the trapeze with his mother, titled _Phantom_."

Irritation shot through him at the ringmaster's interference. He had been so close to attaining the last piece he needed! "You do an act with your mother?"

"Yes." Phantom jerked his head slightly to the side, just behind Vlad. "Her name is Lydia."

Vlad turned and jumped slightly when he saw the corseted woman from earlier standing directly behind him, almost close enough to touch. Warning bells went off in his mind as the ghostly woman looked at him steadily, her dark eyes eerily blank. Without a word, she brushed past him to wrap an arm around Phantom's shoulders.

"Well," Freakshow said, "I'm afraid we must be getting back to our responsibilities. I have some construction to oversee, and the boy really should be getting back to his warm up."

The ringmaster's tone made it clear that he was not asking. Phantom immediately turned and began to walk away, the tattooed woman still attached to his side. Freakshow watched the retreating pair with narrowed eyes before he turned back to Vlad.

"We hope to see you at tonight's performance."

"Yes, I'll have to see if I can make it." Vlad replied through gritted teeth, infuriated by the obvious dismissal. It gave him some measure of satisfaction to blow off Freakshow's invitation just as casually.

Freakshow's eyes hardened at Vlad's reply, though he kept his forced smile in place and he stalked off towards the other side of the tent. He had given Vlad an excuse to make a quick retreat from the tent, but he couldn't leave yet. He moved quickly towards the base of the highwire.

Phantom and Lydia were obviously having a rapid conversation using nothing but their eyes and subtle tilts of their heads. Before he could catch up, the boy shook his head firmly at one final look from his mother and brushed her hand off his shoulder.

"Hey, muscles!" The boy called, effortlessly wrenching his scythe from the ground as he strode past it, "Wanna give me a lift?"

The juggler scowled at the boy, but began throwing his skulls in a higher, but slower, circle. The boy grinned and sprinted towards him, scythe gleaming dangerously in the dim light of the tent. The juggler extended his cupped hands in the brief second they were free and launched the boy straight into the air. The boy twisted as he soared upward to deftly hook his knees on the almost invisible cord of the tightrope. He cheerfully waved his scythe in thanks and dangled there lazily.

"Excuse me, Lydia, was it?"

The disguised ghost turned to look at Vlad as he finally caught up, cursing the fact that Phantom had been literally thrown out of reach. It was almost painful to address a ghost so politely, but he had to keep up appearances. T

"It was a pleasure to meet you and your son. I hope to see your performance of _Phantom_." Her face could have been carved from stone. Vlad turned away from her, though kept his guard up, and looked to where the boy was still hanging from the tightrope. Phantom didn't even try to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping.

"I never did catch your name," Vlad called, "I'm afraid my niece was really quite insistent." Every ghost fighting instinct he had was telling him to get out of Gothica as fast as he could, but he couldn't leave without an answer.

Phantom just smirked at him from where he was dangling. "My name is Phantom."

"That may be your performing name," Vlad called, "What is your true name?"

Phantom frowned at him, and looked at Lydia. Another rapid flurry of expressions passed between them, and Lydia shrugged slightly. Swinging up to sit on the cord, the boy looked down at the scythe in his hands.

"My name _is_ Phantom, but my real name is Danny."

* * *

 **And we're off! Hope to see you all soon!**


	6. Chapter 6: Gillies

**Updated**

 **Hey guys, I hope you all had a great week. It's been a little too busy to write a lot with college and everything, but I hope you still like the chapter!**

* * *

Phantom watched with narrowed eyes as the Mayor of Amity Park finally vanished through the tent's entrance, the bright sunlight swallowing him up as he left Gothica. He snorted softly in disgust and got to his feet, thinking of how the man had just stared at him before almost running from the tent.

Good riddance.

He'd watched the guy slinking around for several minutes before he had alerted his master that they had company. He hadn't known who it was, and he didn't really care now that he knew. The man could have been the President of the United States and he wouldn't have felt any differently.

What the man hoped to accomplish by sneaking around was lost on him. Sometimes critics came to see Gothica behind the scenes, to reassure themselves it was just some cheap show. A flimsy fraud. A smile twitched his lips. They had no idea just how real Gothica was.

Still. . .

Why would the mayor want to meet _him_?

If he was going to be honest with himself, that was the weirdest part of the whole thing. No one had wanted to know his real name before. Phantom _was_ his name. He was _Phantom_. Nothing else.

Still, he had given his first name when the man pressed, if only to get rid of him. He was technically still alive, and he needed to play the part, if only to protect his master's reputation. And, that included having more than a stage name. The name 'Danny' hardly even existed to him anymore. It was just a reminder that he didn't want of his life before Circus Gothica. It didn't really belong to him. It belonged to someone who had thankfully died a long time ago.

A tug and whisper in his mind brought his gaze to the far off floor, meeting a familiar pair of dark eyes. The ghost he called his mother stared up at him, unmoving. A tight smile twisted his lips, and he shrugged. Her expression did not change, but she robotically turned and moved away to seek out their master. His master's will was to know what had passed between him and the mayor, the whispers insisted. Lydia would assure him that it had been nothing.

He turned and walked along the tightrope, making his way to the rusting platform at the end. "This whole town is full of arrogant fruitloops." He muttered. The coolness of the braided wire under his bare feet was comforting. He sat down heavily on the platform, hoping to be out of sight for a bit. His master's energy hung thick in the air, and he breathed deeply. The familiar red haze crept into his mind, wiping away his frustration and focusing his mind on his master's will.

His master was not happy, and every single one of the ghosts of Gothica knew it. He sighed and leaned back against the pole of the tent, the events of the last few hours flashing before his eyes.

It had been hours since he made it back to Gothica on foot. Freakshow's fury still crept through them all like a poison, the stain of his displeasure putting everyone on edge. His master couldn't believe that they'd failed to fight off a single human. It made no difference that the woman had been armed with weapons meant to destroy his cast. He had been disobeyed, and had lost a whole bag of stolen jewels in the process. His master's energy, which usually comforted him, was seething with disappointment and anger. It made it hard to breathe, and Phantom gritted his teeth. He had _failed_ his master. The only thing that made it bearable was that he knew his master had been pleased that they'd all made it back in one piece, even if he hadn't shown it.

Well, _mostly_ in one piece. His eyes briefly flashed red at the thought of the huntress. He had never seen a human with both the tech and stupidity to attack a group of ghosts. His trick with the jewelry hadn't even slowed her down, though it had given him enough time to tell the others to scatter and meet back at Gothica.

He rubbed his chest absently, his core still aching from whatever he'd been shot with. The pain had ebbed as the day wore on, and it helped that he was stuck in his human form until the humans setting up the last of the stands were gone. He wasn't even sure if he _could_ transform at the moment. Unless his master wanted him to, he wouldn't try it until the time came to perform.

He lazily held his hand in front of him, looking critically at his bony wrists, pale skin, and chipped black nail polish. He sighed and dropped his hand in his lap once more. He didn't _like_ his human side. It was heavy, restricted his powers, and was way too _warm_ for his liking. His master didn't like it either, even though it was what made him unique, which just made him hate it even more.

Still, his human form _did_ dampen the pain of the abuse his true form had undergone last night. It couldn't completely mask it though. He traced the choker on his neck. Plasmius had left his mark. The mottled fingerprints stained his skin a dark purple.

Another tug at his mind reminded him that he was supposed to be warming up. Shifting his legs out, he leaned forward and started stretching. He couldn't help but think about the _other_ reason he was so sore as his muscles twinged painfully.

He couldn't really blame Plasmius, though he wanted to. The ghost was just defending his territory. Besides, for such a powerful ghost, Plasmius really hadn't even touched him. He had been more interested in figuring out who they were and why they were there, and that made Phantom resent him even more. Cocky jerk.

He hadn't lied though, he really _didn't_ want to be enemies with Plasmius. Who would want to be? Plasmius's energy had made his skin prickle uncomfortably from the moment the train pulled into town. It was different from his own master's energy. It was electric, and almost hurt. If he ever saw the demonic ghost again, it would be too soon.

Phantom scowled. There was no doubt that he _would_ be seeing Plasmius again, and then every day for the rest of his afterlife. His master wanted Plasmius, and his master always got what he wanted. His hands tightened into fists, and he let his hair fall in front of his face as he shifted into a new stretch. Why was his master so determined to draw Plasmius to Circus Gothica? They had enough cast members didn't they? His master didn't _need_ Plasmius. He had _him_! Plasmius would ruin _everything_.

That's why he had. . .lied.

Well, he didn't _lie_. He couldn't. Not to his master. But he hadn't told the full truth. After all, the huntress _had_ captured him, and she _hadn't_ been there when he woke up in a cage, and he _had_ escaped. He just neglected to mention that he'd seen Plasmius. The whispers of Gothica picked and pulled at his thoughts the more he thought about his deception. They were urging him to run. Throw himself down at his master's feet. Beg for forgiveness. He stubbornly forced the whispers down. It didn't really matter. His master would get his way eventually.

He shifted into his middle splits, his torso flat on the small platform, lazily pointed feet sticking off the edges. He laid his chin on his folded arms and looked down at the preparations still going on below him. It was comforting to be above all the activity. Not nearly as good as flying, but it was a close second. His master caught his eye. He was crossing the tent to pounce on yet another group of workers that apparently wasn't busy enough. As fun as it was to see his master angry at someone else, Phantom frowned and pulled himself deeper into the stretch.

His master had made it clear the night they'd pulled into this dump town that Plasmius would be joining them before long. Still, it had been nearly a week, and the ghost hadn't shown his face until last night. Even then, he hadn't shown up in person, he'd just sent his little human helper to chase them off. What was that about? And since when did a human obey a _ghost_?

He just didn't get how Plasmius hadn't been drawn to Gothica like the rest of them had been. Couldn't he feel the call? As powerful as Plasmius was, he was nothing compared to his master. . . so how was he staying away? Why would he want to?

 _Well, we certainly got his attention._ Phantom thought bitterly, shifting into a sitting position and pulling an arm across his chest. It was only a matter of time before Plasmius showed up. He had been waiting for it all morning, every one of his senses strained. His ghost sense was very sensitive, and was one of the reasons his master valued him so highly. It came in handy in finding new cast members. At the moment, Phantom was just grateful it would give him some warning whenever Plasmius decided to show up. If Plasmius was somehow resisting his master's call, he might even try to attack them. Not that he'd stand a chance against all of them combined, let alone his master's power.

Phantom continued his warm up, trying to stretch away the remaining pain and stiffness from his muscles. If their opening performance wasn't perfect, his master would only get more pissed. He didn't want to disappoint him again.

It was only because he was straining himself to stay alert for any sign of Plasmius that his sensitive hearing caught the sound of voices coming from outside the tent.

". . . really don't think this is a good idea. We're gonna get arrested for trespassing or something."

A higher voice interrupted the first. "Forget it Tucker, you talked me out of coming yesterday."

"I talked you out of it yesterday, because we _both_ got busted when you skipped on Monday to go to the opening ceremonies. If they didn't fall for me cross dressing the first time, what makes you think they'd be fooled the second time?"

"They wouldn't expect you to try again, so you'd have the element of _surprise_."

"That makes no sense, Sam."

Cross dressing? Whoever they were, they clearly weren't part of the construction team, which made them trespassers. He scowled, a surge of hot frustration turning his eyes red. What the hell was _up_ with all these people trying to invade his life and his home? He couldn't take it out on Plasmius, and he couldn't take it out on the mayor, but he could take it out on whoever was trying to stick their noses where they didn't belong.

He glanced toward the other side of the tent. His master was talking to a man that Phantom recognized as a safety inspection officer, his slightly yellow teeth bared in an attempt to smile. Phantom knew that look. It meant his master was seriously annoyed, and that was something he knew to avoid like the plague. He wouldn't bother his master with something like this. He'd just take care of it himself. He dropped the foot he'd been stretching above his head and twisted onto the ladder. His palms burned on the metal as he slid quickly slid down-he'd forgotten to put his gloves back on-but he didn't mind. He enjoyed the rush.

His feet hit the earth with a thud. Ignoring his stinging feet, he casually walked over to the tent wall, following the voices as they moved along the outside of the tent. He glanced around, checking that no one was looking, and phased through the cloth. His eyes watered a bit at the sudden sunlight combined with the bright colors the boy, Tucker, he assumed, was wearing. He quickly focused on the girl. She was much easier to look at, and seemed more like the kind of crowd the circus usually attracted, if her dark clothes and heavy boots were anything to go by.

"I just want to peek inside, Tucker," The girl was arguing, making an impatient gesture with her hand. "No one will notice us anyways. It's opening night! They're probably all too busy getting ready."

"What are you two doing here?" He fought to keep a scowl on his face as the two jumped and whirled around with startled squeaks. He was a little disappointed when they didn't take off running. Then again, his master told him on an almost daily basis that he was about as intimidating as a ten-year-old when he was out of costume. He'd have to work on that.

" _Dude_! Where did you even come from?" The boy wheezed, clutching his chest. Phantom's annoyance flared once more at the question, but the girl, recovering faster than her friend, spoke first.

"Oh my gosh, you're _Phantom_ , aren't you?" She quickly smacked Tucker on the side to get him to straighten up. The glee in her voice threw Phantom off; it clashed spectacularly with her gloomy appearance. He felt an unexpected rush of heat in his face, and he folded his arms. So, she was a fan. Fans were something new to him, though they were becoming more common. It was kind of. . . freaky.

"That's right." He impulsively combed his hair out of his eyes, "I mean, my name's Danny, but everyone calls me Phantom." He snapped his mouth shut. What was he _doing_? He was supposed to be chasing these people off, not introducing himself. Besides, no one cared about what his name was. Well, besides the weirdo mayor, but he didn't count.

"Isn't he the one you have a huge cru. . ." Tucker got cut off by a sharp elbow to his side.

"The one who does the amazing tightrope act I've been telling you about?" The girl said quickly, her face flushing red. "Why yes, _Tucker_ , it is! And, he's probably wondering why we're here."

"Uh, yeah, actually." Why was this girl babbling?

"We're actually _not_ here!" The girl blurted. He just raised an eyebrow at her. Her face flushed even further, and she rapidly backpedaled, "And by that, I mean that we were just leaving. Come on, Tucker." She grabbed her friends arm and began rapidly towing him away from the tent.

Phantom watched their hurried exit, feeling strangely torn. It was good that they were going. The world of Gothica was not for outsiders. Still. . . it had been a long time since he had talked to anyone his age. And they were technically patrons.

"Does this mean you don't want a tour of Circus Gothica?"

The girl stopped so quickly that her friend, who she was still practically dragging, promptly fell over. "You want to give us a _tour_?" She ignored Tucker's complaints as he picked himself up. "I thought you were going to kick us out!"

"Oh, I _am_ kicking you out." He said seriously. The corner of his mouth twitched towards a smile as the two exchanged a confused look. "But that doesn't mean I can't take the long way around while I do it."

"Are you sure? We don't want to get you in trouble." She bit her lip, though her eyes were hopeful.

"No such thing, as too _much_ trouble." He said smoothly, raising an eyebrow, "What do you wanna see first?"

* * *

"What's the matter, Sam? Are you stuck?" Tucker's voice shook with suppressed laughter.

Phantom smirked at the two. This turning out to be way more fun than he had imagined. He had just finished showing them the tents where all the extra props and costumes were kept when they had come across the slackline he used to practice when the high wire wasn't available. Sam, as he had learned was her name, had immediately shed her boots and socks when he told her she could try it. She had only gone a few steps before she'd frozen up.

"Shut up, Tucker, I've got this," Sam snapped, glaring down at her feet as she wobbled.

"I can catch you if you want to just jump down," He really did _not_ want the two to argue. He didn't want to draw any attention to them if he could help it. Sam shook her head, but he could see her fear. The five-foot drop didn't bother him, but he supposed it could be frightening for someone who could still completely die.

"Don't worry, I've got you." He went to the other end of the line and swung himself up easily, trying not to jostle it too much. "I won't let you fall. Just take my hands." He walked smoothly towards her, but the closer he came, the more nervous she looked. Just as he stepped into arms reach, she wobbled and began to fall. Quick as a flash, Phantom grabbed the startled girl by the wrists, pulling her into him and wrapping a steadying arm around her waist. She froze, a little stunned by her close call. But only for a second.

"Don't scare me like that!" The girl protested, her face flaming red as she tried to pull away. Phantom smirked and leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose, speaking too low for Tucker to hear.

"How _should_ I scare you?" His eyes glinted with amusement as the girl's face, somehow, reddened further. He swallowed and took a step back. He felt strangely bad for messing with her. He shrugged it off took Sam's wrists in a firm grip. In a way it reminded him of when he and Lydia performed on the trapeze. They never let one another fall.

"Don't look at your feet," He instructed, though Sam still seemed a little dazed. "They already know what to do. Straighten your back, tighten your stomach, and look at me, okay?"

She shook off her stupor and carefully straightened and locked eyes with him, her cheeks a little red. He lost focus again as he realized her eyes were a deep purple, made even prettier by the dark lashes framing them. He snapped himself out of it, and forced himself to focus. He could feel his cheeks burning, and he hated it. Stupid human emotions.

"Do you want to get down, or do you want to keep going?" He asked abruptly, wanting this to be over.

"Keep going." Sam said immediately. Tucker cheered encouragement, punctuated by the camera shutter sound of his PDA.

They slowly walked along the line, Phantom going backwards. Sam recovered her confidence as they went, by the end she was only barely resting her fingertips on his. He tried not to show his disappointment at that. It had been kind of nice when she had clung to him.

"All right, Sam!" Tucker praised when they reached the opposite side. Phantom carefully helped her down, but stayed on the line himself. "You're a natural! Maybe you should run away with the circus." Tucker wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his friend.

Sam scowled at her friend for some reason, and Phantom wondered if he was missing something.

"Well, I doubt I'd ever be as good as Danny," She said, turning to him. He frowned when she used the name he had unthinkingly told her, but her next words distracted him. "But, from what I've heard, you can do a lot more than walk backwards on a tightrope."

"Is that a challenge?" The two friends looked at one another, smiles growing on their faces.

"Definitely!"

* * *

"Dude, you are seriously insane." Tucker said, shaking his head, "How are you doing that?"

"It's a trade secret." Phantom smirked, continuing to walk backwards on his hands, "Let's just say it takes a lot of _control_."

"How long did it take you to learn how to do this stuff?" Sam asked, looking up at him from where she was lacing up her boots. He paused, hesitating mid "step". He balanced on the one hand and shrugged with his free arm.

"Well, I've been with Circus Gothica for almost as long as I can remember," He came out of his hand stand and sat down on the thin line, "Almost eight years now, I think. I only started performing a few years ago, though."

"How old are you?" Tucker asked. Phantom shrugged again and slid off the cord, landing lightly. He knew how old he _looked_ , but he knew he was a little older. His human form was small for his age. Just another reason to hate it. And, of course, his ghost form mirrored his human half, but, as a ghost, size wasn't as important as power. And he had plenty of that.

"Fourteen or so." He extended a hand to Sam, who readily accepted, pulling her to her feet. She frowned at him as she dusted herself off.

"You don't _know_?"

He raised an eyebrow at her disbelief. "We don't exactly celebrate birthdays around here." His smirk widened at his joke.

"Wait, wait, wait," Tucker interrupted, "If you're _our_ age and you've been a part of Circus Gothica for eight years or so, that means you started when you were five or six?"

Phantom turned away, not liking Tucker's incredulous tone. He started walking away, but gestured for them to follow. He was starting to get tired of all their questions. "Somewhere around there. It kinda blurs together."

"Where are all the other performers?" Sam asked as they walked through the mostly deserted grounds behind the tent. He shrugged, though he was glad she had decided to change the subject.

"They're probably either getting ready for the show, or already in the main tent." He briefly focused on his ghost sense. "My mom's already there, which is too bad. She usually helps me get ready."

"We'd like to meet her." Sam said sincerely. They had been very curious when Phantom had mentioned his mother, especially when he explained that she was mute. Before he could think of a response, Sam's attention was quickly diverted as she saw where they were going.

"Is it true the train is haunted?" She asked eagerly.

He tried to keep a straight face. "I can pretty much confirm that."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Big time. You wanna see my car?"

"You have your own train car?" Tucker asked, impressed.

"My mom and I share it." Phantom admitted, "but yeah. It's sometimes a little cramped with both of us in there, but a little dark and crowded never hurt anyone." He jumped up the rickety metal stairs to slide back the bolt. He threw his weight forward to open the door. He'd just show them this, and then he'd get them off the grounds.

"Is it always this hard to open?" Tucker asked, both he and Sam moving to help when the door refused to budge.

"We don't usually use the door." Phantom grunted. He didn't see the confused look Tucker and Sam exchanged behind his back. With a final shove the door creaked open. "Well, this is it. Home sweet home." He led the way into the dark space, pulling open the curtains so they could see. Not that there was much.

The majority of the space was dedicated to racks of costumes that were pushed up against the walls. A mirror hung between the two grimy windows on each side of the car, framed by small shelves packed with containers of stage makeup.

"This is where we keep all our costumes and props that we might be using for the season, and get ready for the show." He stood back and let them look around. He glanced uncertainly at the open door of the car. Would it make too much noise if he tried to close it again? Or would leaving it open draw more attention?

"Where do you sleep?" Tucker asked, noticing there weren't any beds.

"We're actually undead, so we don't need to sleep." Phantom said seriously, turning away from the door. Sam snorted and Tucker rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, dude." Tucker wandered past him, looking at the costumes with interest. Sam followed, looking around the train car with a troubled expression. He didn't like it, though it occurred to him that he should.

"So, are you guys coming to the show tonight?" He asked. He might as well drum up some business while he was at it.

"Sam bought her tickets the second the mayor announced you guys were coming last week." Tucker teased, crossing his arms. "I wasn't really interested, but I'm glad I bought a ticket now that I've met you. We wouldn't miss it, dude." Tucker's words stirred a strange warmth in Phantom's core. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was. . . unusual. He shook it off and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I met your mayor." He grabbed one of the containers of makeup absentmindedly, rolling it between his hands. "He came snooping around here earlier, asking questions and making sure to remind us all that he's the one sponsoring us. He was so annoying." The two teenagers laughed, and Sam opened her mouth to reply, but Phantom's attention was snatched away as a plume of mist poured from his mouth.

Before they could see anything, he abruptly grabbed the two and stuffed them unceremoniously into the nearest costume rack, ignoring their surprised yelps.

"Be quiet, and hold still." He hissed, turning to face the door. He knew he should have closed it! He slumped in relief as a familiar figure phased into the train car. She was already wearing a form fitting white costume, her human disguise's long black hair tumbling freely down her back. Her normal red cloak had been replaced with a ragged lace cape, sewn onto the low back of her costume, that trailed behind her like wings as she landed in the car.

"Mom!" Lydia looked at him blankly. Phantom ignored that and turned to the costume rack. "Sorry you guys, you can come out. It's just Lydia." Lydia's face twisted in mild confusion as two more teenagers struggled into view.

"Uh, hi Mrs. Phantom." Tucker said politely, fixing his odd red hat. Lydia gazed at him impassively, then turned back to Phantom.

 _Costume. Makeup. Now._ The mute ghost signed. Her eyes wandered back to the two humans standing awkwardly behind him. _Human_? She signed, gesturing towards them with a slight scowl. Phantom nodded. It would be pointless to ask Lydia not to tell Freakshow that he'd let two humans wander around backstage. Even if she wanted to tell him, Freakshow couldn't speak sign language. He could tell Sam and Tucker were uneasy by Lydia's less than welcoming expression, so he spoke aloud as he signed his response.

"Sure. I'll just walk these guys out." She nodded and turned to leave, her face once again expressionless. Phantom turned back to his guests. Tucker looked slightly worried, but Sam was watching Lydia with a rapt expression, obviously thrilled to have met another performer.

"End of the show." Phantom said, their eyes blinking back to him. "I have to get ready for tonight. Freakshow has a thing for punctuality, so I have to be ready to perform a couple hours before the show."

"No worries, dude." Tucker said confidently, shaking off his surprise. "It's almost lunchtime anyways. Time for some Nasty Burger!"

"All right, Tucker," Sam groaned, following them to the door. "We'll go to that grease bucket. But only because they have some ultra-recyclo-vegetarian options."

"What's a nasty burger?" Phantom asked. He knew he shouldn't care. If it wasn't a part of Circus Gothica, it wasn't important, but his curiousity got the better of him. He nearly ran into Tucker's back as the other boy screeched to a stop. He found himself taking a couple steps back at the look on his face.

"WHAT?!"

* * *

 **Looks like Vlad's gotten on Danny's bad side in both of his identities, huh? I guess that's nothing new.**

 **Again, not super different from the original, but I hope it was better this time around. Let me know if there's something that doesn't make sense!**

 **See y'all next Sunday!**


	7. Chapter 7: Night Riders

**Updated**

 **Sorry I missed a week! This one took longer than I expected, but I hope you like it.**

* * *

The grounds had been silent for hours.

Phantom closed his eyes and tapped the wall gently with his foot, setting his hammock rocking. Opening night had gone off without a hitch. The humans had left. The lights of the circus were out. The ghosts of Gothica had all retreated to their cars, silently waiting for the day or their master's orders. Whichever came first.

Well, almost all of them. His eyes wandered over the familiar dark shapes of the costume racks and grime covered windows. The emptiness of the car bothered him. His master liked to go out and celebrate after a successful performance, and Lydia was his favorite companion. He frowned and kicked the wall again to set his hammock into motion once more. He knew he probably wouldn't see her again until their next performance.

Phantom forced himself to look at the roof of the car again. He didn't like it when Lydia was gone for so long, but he had to be grateful. It was good that their opening night performance had pleased his master enough that, even with their latest failures, he would go out like usual. If the next robbery went well. . .

"Everything will be fine." Phantom said to himself firmly, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

He wished he could sleep. Unlike his master, Phantom knew he couldn't relax. His master didn't know what he'd done. His master didn't know that Plasmius could show up at any moment. He had to be awake to try and stop him from entering Gothica, or it was over.

As much as he wanted to, Phantom couldn't stop thinking about his unexpected rival. His master's anger, the huntress's attack, the faded bruises on his neck, his restless night. . . all of it was because of Plasmius. That was, perhaps, a little unfair to Plasmius. It wasn't his fault he was his master's latest obsession. But who ever said death was fair?

Fair or not, Plasmius was a threat to everything he had worked so hard for. It had taken years for him to become his master's best performer and thief. For his master to see that he didn't have to control him so closely. Now his master wanted to enthrall a ghost that would be powerful _and_ smart enough to replace him!

His master had never gone after a specific ghost before. He'd always built his cast from the jumble of ghosts that had found themselves pulled to Gothica. Phantom knew from experience that the call to Gothica was almost impossible to ignore, which made Plasmius even more puzzling.

Plasmius had been. . . strange. Phantom's hand crept to his neck, impulsively tracing the faded prints of the ghost's fingers. He could admit that he would feel resentful if any ghost threatened his position. The vampire ghost himself was just too intriguing to ignore.

He had known the city had been claimed as a powerful ghost's domain as soon as they arrived. The whole place tingled with his possessive energy. He hadn't felt anything like it since he'd lived in the ghost zone. But it looked like Plasmius was allowing the humans to live their lives free of his influence.

Plasmius hadn't even appeared personally to remove them when they intruded on his territory. He hadn't been the slightest bit worried to find them there, just curious. Well, he'd been curious until Phantom had managed to tick him off and Plasmius had attacked him. Phantom smiled at the memory and dropped his hand from the ring of bruises on his neck. It had been stupid to bait the ghost, but despite his fear of Plasmius's power, he hadn't been able to resist. It wasn't often, or ever really, he got to speak his mind, and his head had been unusually clear.

He figured that Plasmius's lack of concern was just arrogance. He'd had that in spades, even in the short time they had spoken. An entire horde of ghosts was camping out right at his doorstep and he'd just sent his human help to shoo them off when they started causing trouble. And since when did a ghost as powerful as Plasmius work together with a human? It made no sense.

A freezing sensation burst in his chest. Phantom gasped, the coldness shocking him with its intensity, and blew the breath out slowly. The air crystallized into an icy plume, cloudy white even in the darkness.

Speaking of Plasmius. . .

He sat up slowly, his eyes glowing as white rings swept over his body, releasing him from his human shell. In a heartbeat, he summoned his scythe and flew invisibly through the roof to face the intruder. The night air stung as he soared upwards, his ghost sense throbbing the closer he got. He knew it had been stupid to hope that Plasmius would take his advice and stay away from Gothica. He'd probably just drawn him here even faster.

It took him a moment to pinpoint where the vampire ghost was. Plasmius was hovering high above Circus Gothica, his face in shadow as he looked down at the tents below him. His white suit and cape glowed in the soft light of the stars. Phantom curved silently through the cool air and hovered invisibly a couple yards behind Plasmius, holding his scythe defensively in front of himself. His core was throbbing painfully fast, and Phantom finally admitted to himself what he'd been trying to deny all day. He was terrified.

Despite what he'd said last night, he _did_ fear Plasmius. He probably wouldn't last five minutes in a full-on fight, and without his master here, there would be no one to stop Plasmius from wasting him. Phantom's hands tightened around the scythe until his fingers hurt, the stillness almost unbearable. He had to strike now, before Plasmius knew he was here. One scratch from his scythe, and bye bye. . .

"I know you're there."

Crap.

Plasmius turned, his demonically glowing eyes looking straight at him. A shudder ran down his spine, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. There was no way. How could Plasmius have sensed him? He was invisible! He made no sound as he drifted to the left, his panic rising as Plasmius turned with him.

"I'm not here to play games with you, Phantom." The ghost's fangs glinted as his lips twisted in an amused smile. "I'm here to talk."

A hot surge of anger burned away his fear, and he dropped his invisibility.

"Sorry if I don't believe you," he spat, his resentment boiling. "You weren't feeling too chatty last night." He could feel the energy of Gothica pulling at him, working to calm and erase his emotions as it always did. The numbness did little to clear his head this time. Plasmius just looked at him evenly, his red eyes never leaving his face.

Phantom's hands twitched uneasily on his scythe as the more powerful ghost made no move. If he hadn't grown up with Lydia, he wouldn't have been able to read the fierce internal battle going on behind Plasmius's stern expression. He recognized anger, sadness, regret, disbelief, and so much more fight for dominance in his eyes.

"I'm not here to fight, Phantom." Plasmius said calmly. Phantom flinched as the ghost began moving closer. He wanted to retreat, and keep his distance, but he forced himself to stay still.

"Stay back, Plasmius!" He hated how weak his voice sounded. "You come any closer and I'll make sure every ghost in Gothica knows you're here." It worked. Plasmius stopped, but he didn't seem the slightest bit worried by what he'd said. The ghost just folded his arms and looked at him appraisingly. Before he could calm his pounding core, Plasmius spoke again.

"You warned me last night to stay away from Circus Gothica."

"Glad to see you took my advice." If Plasmius was worried about all the ghosts that were currently hidden, oblivious, below them, he needed to use that to his advantage. Courage filled his chest. Plasmius needed to be convinced to leave. Any violent action or loud noise could make the odds nearly forty to one. Plasmius wouldn't know that Phantom wanted to avoid alerting his fellow ghosts as much as he probably did. "Are you always this stupid, or is today just a special occasion?"

 _That_ got a reaction. Phantom floated back slightly as Plasmius bristled. Plasmius's voice stayed low, even though his red eyes flashed with annoyance. "Enough with these ridiculous hostilities! I am not here to fight you!"

"You're not?" Phantom pushed his lip into a pout. "And here I thought we had something special." He didn't suppress a smile as Plasmius visibly restrained himself from shouting. The ghost's gloved fists clenched, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

"Just tell me why, Phantom." Plasmius growled out. Phantom frowned internally. He wouldn't answer that question. Plasmius was trying to get him to reveal even more about his master.

"I've got a better idea," He adopted the same pose Plasmius had taken, folding his arms arrogantly. "Why don't you _beat it_ before my master and every other ghost of Gothica realizes you're here."

His core sank as Plasmius responded with contempt, "Your master isn't here, Phantom. I made sure of it. Now, are you going to answer my question? Or should I answer it for you?"

"I'd love to see you try." He was so dead. If Plasmius knew his master wasn't here, there was nothing he could do. If he could keep him talking for long enough, maybe his master would return. Luckily for him, Plasmius seemed more than willing to draw this out so he could gloat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong. You want me to stay away from Circus Gothica because you know what would happen next. Your "master" as you call him, is completely manipulating you, meaning you must bend, fight, and grovel to please him. If not, you lose your standing. A standing that must have taken you years to attain. If another powerful ghost enters the cast, you will be replaced without a second thought."

Phantom edged backwards uneasily as Plasmius floated towards him, every word he said feeling like a slap as he continued. "Even worse, not only have you told me that your master intends to do with me, but you have tried to prevent it. If your master finds out that you are going behind his back like this, he'll be furious with you. Not to mention you've revealed your greatest secret and confessed to all of the robberies at the same time."

"I would _never_ reveal myself, or my master." Phantom forced himself to stop when he realized he had started frantically shaking his head. How could Plasmius have known all this? Why was he saying all this? If he had been able to pay attention to anything besides choking down his rising panic, he would have seen the sadness in Plasmius's eyes that found no place in his voice.

"No?"

Phantom tensed as Plasmius raised his hand, but Plasmius paid him no mind. The ghost merely pushed a few buttons on a watch-like contraption at his wrist. A moving image rose from his cupped palm, and Phantom felt his core stop pulsing altogether.

It was himself, kneeling on a tile floor, clutching his arms around himself as if to keep from falling apart. "No, no, no, no, no." The image whimpered. Two flashes of white light appeared, splitting away from each other to reveal his human form. The now human boy looked up, pure horror in his now blue eyes.

The image abruptly vanished. Phantom couldn't move. Plasmius had filmed everything. It would be better for Plasmius to waste him now, than have his master see what he'd said and done. Circus Gothica was finished. And it was all his fault.

Plasmius, when he realized that he wasn't going to say anything, spoke again. "Face the facts, dear boy. You need me." His voice was almost kind.

Hatred like nothing he'd ever known surged in his chest. So, this was going to be some sort of game for Plasmius. He'd been backed into a corner. This ghost would take everything he knew and loved away from him. He glared at the ghost with all the fury he felt before spitting out the only question that could save them all.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

Plasmius stared at him, apparently a little off guard, but his tone was as flippantly arrogant as before when he said, "Simple. In return for certain. . . information, I won't confront the ringmaster until I can overcome his thrall and personally chase you out. Yet, in the meantime I can't allow you or any of your other little friends to go flying about my territory. I have an image to maintain after all, and I can't have your sticky fingers ruining it."

"If my master orders us to steal, I'll do what he says." Phantom objected weakly.

"That does not worry me."

Plasmius's lack of concern threw him for a moment. "Then how do you plan on stopping us?"

"I believe you remember my friend the Red Huntress?" Phantom's lip curled at the reminder, but Plasmius continued smoothly. "She is more than capable of defending the city against you. I believe she demonstrated that."

"So, here's the deal Phantom. I will come here every night, and you will tell me everything you know about when and where your master intends to send you. In return, I stay away from Circus Gothica. Your master will never know what passed between us. And, I will order the huntress not to touch you."

Phantom realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it with a snap. Could that actually work? He unconsciously started drifting from side to side as he tried to look at Plasmius's deal from every angle, ignoring the red haze at the edge of his vision. He'd be able to follow Freakshow's orders. He wouldn't have to worry about the Red Huntress again. Plasmius wouldn't have to get personally involved, and could avoid becoming his master's newest pet. It sounded perfect. Except for two things.

"Two conditions." He said abruptly. Plasmius raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued.

"Does this mean you accept?"

"On _two_ conditions," He repeated forcefully. "First, _no one_ besides your Huntress can know that I'm telling you anything. If my master finds out I went behind his back, you have no idea how bad that would be for me." That was the understatement of the year. He'd be lucky to stay undead if his Master found out. This went beyond disobedience; this was outright betrayal. "My second condition is that my mom needs to be safe. I don't care if your huntress hurts me, but if my mom isn't protected, then the deal is off."

"Your first condition is hardly necessary, but I accept both of your terms." Phantom looked apprehensively at Plasmius as he extended a hand. His vision seemed to narrow until Plasmius's hand was the only thing he could see. Was he really willing to do this? Was it worth the risk of his master finding out if it kept Plasmius out of his control? Phantom tore his gaze away from the still extended hand and looked Plasmius in the eye. There was no deceit there. Only confidence, and determination.

He slowly drifted forward and extended his own bare hand. Plasmius's black gloved hand almost completely engulfed his own as they shook once. Phantom immediately let go and darted backwards once again, completely missing the twinge of sadness that flickered in Plasmius's eyes. It was Phantom who spoke first.

"My master has not told us where he intends us to reap next. Wherever it is, it probably won't be for a few days." He suppressed a surge of dread as he spoke so openly about his master's business. The red haze swirled agitatedly in the corner of his eye.

Plasmius nodded. It was clear that their meeting was over, but Plasmius made no move to leave. Phantom watched him carefully. Plasmius clearly wanted to say something. He even opened his mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it. Instead he nodded again, and turned away.

"Until tomorrow, then." With a swirl of pink smoke, Plasmius was gone.

* * *

Back in the privacy of his own home, Plasmius transformed into his human half. Sinking into an armchair, he buried his face in his hands, breathing shakily.

Ten years. It had been almost ten years since he felt any sort of hope. The light of the Phantom's transformation rings had relit that part of his heart that had died at Maddie and Daniel's passing.

Phantom was not a full ghost. Phantom was Daniel. Daniel was alive.

He had thought long and hard since he had left Circus Gothica just that morning, and he'd come to two realizations. First, and honestly the most important, was that Daniel had no idea who he was. That fact had not truly been driven home until he had been face to face with the child, and saw the look of suspicion and distrust in his eyes. Daniel had met his human half already. Vlad knew a few parts of his appearance had changed over the last decade, but his name and face had not. Daniel did not remember him.

It stung when the boy had reminded him of his callous behavior towards him the previous night, but Vlad figured he deserved that. He felt a surge of dread at how close he'd come to killing the boy.

When he had turned and seen the boy floating in the dark night sky, it was as though every moment of grief and loneliness and regret he had experienced on his behalf had flooded through him. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had earned over the past ten years to keep himself from just grabbing the child and dragging him back to his home. He'd had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say.

But, the second thing he had realized, was that whatever situation Daniel was currently in, it was much more complicated and dangerous than he'd first anticipated. That's why he didn't just tell him everything. He had to be sure that when he told Daniel everything, Freakshow was out of the picture, and that nothing would prevent Daniel from running to his open arms. Daniel needed to trust him first. That's why he had frightened and angered and manipulated the boy who had abruptly refocused his entire life. He hated himself for the way he had spoken with only arrogance and contempt. He pushed down the guilt impatiently. Daniel would understand when this was all over. He just didn't know that Vlad would never actually go through with any of his threats. He would guard Daniel's secret as his own. Not even Ms. Gray would be told.

Vlad restlessly got up and began to pace. Did Daniel remember anything about his past? He had been so young when the accident occurred. Had Daniel been as alone as he had been? How had he ended up a performer at Circus Gothica?

Why was he serving Freakshow? The man was human, how could he possibly be commanding so many ghosts? How could they be so loyal? How could _Daniel_ be so loyal? Was it blackmail? Vlad felt a surge of anger. If that pasty skinned _freak_ was threatening _his_ child. . .

Vlad paused in his pacing. His child? Could he really claim that? He had only known the ghost boy was his Daniel for a single day. He hadn't even been able to tell him who he really was. All he had been able to do was assure the boy he didn't want to be enemies, and ensure that he'd have an excuse to continue seeing him until he figured out how to break Freakshow's hypnotism. And he _would_ be telling Daniel the truth. He just had to be sure that when he did, Daniel would believe it.

Still, he had loved both Maddie and Daniel as if they were his family, not Jack's. It was out of spite towards Jack that he had ultimately caused both of their deaths. He had spent the last ten years suffering for his mistakes. Ten years bearing the curse of his actions alone. Now that the universe was holding out this chance for him, he was not going to let anything stop him from taking it. Daniel was alive.

Daniel was his.

* * *

 **Fun Fact, almost all of my chapter titles are either references to the show, or circus slang.**

 **Night Riders were bill posters for competing circuses, who posted paper for their employers in a gentlemanly fashion by day, and tore down or covered up the bills for their competition by night.**

 **Hope you liked it! Send me your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 8: Mechanic

**This one's a completely new scene. It's pretty short, but I hope you like it!**

 **You may also notice that I've just removed all the chapters of the old Calliope, instead of just replacing them as I go, so that no one gets confused. That being said, let me know if you have any questions. I won't be marking chapters as UPDATED anymore, since there won't be anything to confuse them with.**

* * *

It was _supposed_ to be simple.

Start near the end of the wire, start nearly running to get enough speed, and then jump to flip. One full rotation, and then half of another to catch himself in a handstand.

He brushed his dark hair off his sweaty face and glared at the wire, the dull metal almost invisible in the dim tent. If he hadn't been practicing on it for years, the darkness would have ended his unplanned practice. And he needed to practice. He needed to do something right. He stepped off the platform and onto the braided metal. The muscles in his legs and arms were shaking, but he ignored them.

He'd been practicing the sequence for hours, but it was all wrong. He couldn't sleep after Plasmius had left, as tired as he was. What he had agreed to do was against everything he knew. Obedience to his master was law at Gothica. More than that, pleasing his master was, or at least had been, the most important thing in his life. It was the reason he did anything. And now, he was conspiring with the ghost that he hated, and his master wanted, most. If his master found out, he wouldn't just lose his position at his master's right hand, he might lose his afterlife. If it worked, it would lead to ruining everything his master wanted. The guilt and fear were becoming unbearable, and it had only been a few hours. A few hours, and he still couldn't do this stupid routine.

"I can do this." Phantom muttered. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Gothica was thick with his master's energy, and he smiled as its red warmth and constant whispers filled his mind. It was exhilarating to lose himself in it. The pull to obey was irresistible, and he focused on one of his master's many desires. His master always expected a perfect performance from him, and he would get it.

His eyes snapped open, glowing red as Plasmius was forgotten and his master's will pulsed through him with every beat of his core. He ran. His bare feet pounded along the wire, gaining momentum. With a yell, he leapt. He knew from the moment he began to twist through the air that he'd finally gotten it right, and he prepared to catch himself. A rush of adrenaline filled him, and with it, a clear thought.

 _Traitor_.

Phantom flinched. The red energy, and all the focus and comfort it gave him, cleared in an instant. Pain replaced his shock as his outstretched hands barely missed the wire. The wire scraped up the inside of his arm before his neck and shoulder slammed into it. The impact sent him spinning. Blinded by pain, he couldn't think to catch hold of the wire, to try to catch himself as he fell. The ground was as merciful as always, and the breath was knocked out of him as he smashed into it.

The tent was dead silent for several moments. Phantom groaned, coughed, then groaned again. Stars were dancing in his vision, and his shoulder hurt like hell. His body automatically began going through the small motions he'd been taught to make sure nothing was broken. It had been a long time since he'd fallen, and the pain surprised him. Nothing felt broken, so he gingerly sat up, hissing as he realized that the warmth on his arm was blood. The wire had scraped off the skin of his arm and left a deep welt in his neck. Warm blood trickled from the welt on his neck down his arm to join the blood oozing from where the skin of his forearm had been completely scraped off.

What the hell was wrong with him? He carefully tucked his arm against his chest, letting his shirt absorb the blood as best it could, and glared up at the innocent wire above him. As angry as he was by his idiotic fall, he couldn't help but recognize that it was not the wire's fault that he'd taken a nose dive for the first time in years. Why was he so worried about his deal? Why couldn't he do it? He wasn't disobeying a direct order. His master didn't need Plasmius. He had Phantom! He didn't know how long he sat there, eyes clenched tightly shut and arm pressed against his chest before a familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts.

" _Pathetic_."

Phantom jumped to his feet, whirling to see a dark figure leaning against one of the high wire's tall posts. His core pounded. How long? How long had his master been watching? He stood, frozen in place as his master thrust his staff into the earth and crossed the space between them. Phantom could smell the alcohol on his breath as his master stopped in front of him, but he didn't raise his eyes. His master was so much taller than him. It made him feel so small. He stayed still as his master grabbed his stinging shoulder and inspected the welt on his neck. _Count the buttons_ , he thought, an old habit surging. Stay still by counting the buttons on his master's coat until the danger had passed.

"Anything broken?" Freakshow said calmly, his voice pleasant. Phantom shook his head. "Good." His master's hand swung.

Phantom didn't see the slap coming, and it almost knocked him to the ground. Pain forked through his neck and shoulder like lightning, but he clenched his teeth together and didn't cry out. His master hated weakness. Phantom couldn't bear to see his disappointment.

"It's hard to find decent help these days, isn't it drone?" Phantom forced himself to breathe quietly through his nose as his master stepped away. The moment had passed, but he couldn't show relief. That would disappoint his master. "But, that's why we're here, isn't it? Get some fresh blood on the floor!"

Phantom allowed his eyes to flicker up as his master walked away from him, heading back to his staff. Freakshow pulled it out of the ground with little effort, and turned to look at him again, his reddish eyes glowing in the light of the staff.

"I won't stand for sloppiness, boy. If you don't want to be replaced, I suggest you try harder."

"I won't disappoint you, master." Phantom blurted. That's why he was doing all of this! He wanted his master to realize how much he could rely on him and only him! Freakshow scowled at him, his thin lips twisting in disgust.

"You already do."

His master pointed the staff at him, and the red haze immediately returned. Phantom almost gasped in relief as the numbing sensation spread over him, wiping away his pain and disappointment.

Pain? Phantom frowned slightly. Had he been hurt? No, his master wouldn't ever let him be hurt. He smiled. His master was here. Nothing was wrong. All that mattered was that his master was happy. What did he want? He looked to his master eagerly. Whatever it was, he would do it!

"Do it again, drone." His master said, waving a hand towards the high wire. "This time make it two and half rotations, and don't even think about trying to catch yourself if you fall."

Phantom eagerly moved to the ladder to pull himself up to the platform. He couldn't remember what had been stopping him earlier, but now he would get it right. He'd practice all night if he had to. After all, that was what his master wanted.

* * *

 **Hope to see you next week!**


	9. Chapter 9: Icarian Games

**Thank you to all the sweet people who followed and commented on my last update! I love knowing that people are enjoying Calliope, it gives me the warm fuzzies.**

 **Anyways, sorry this one took me so long. I worked on it for a long time and it still ended up being very short. I think my brain is fried from all my midterms.**

* * *

"You made a _what_?" Valerie yelped.

The newspaper she'd been holding slipped from her hands and hit the lab's tiled floor with a slithering smack. She ignored it. It wasn't as important as the fact that Vlad Masters had apparently lost his mind.

Vlad was a mess.

His white hair was sticking in crazy loops from his ponytail, his normally neat shirt rumpled. The lab wasn't much better. It had been immaculate when she'd left two days ago, but now it looked like a tornado had passed through. Books, loose papers, photographs, newspaper clippings, and about ten different coffee cups, were piled on every available surface. She could see Vlad's suit coat thrown haphazardly over one of the ventilation hoods. He'd called to warn her that Phantom had escaped, but she couldn't believe how chaotic the lab had become since then.

Vlad stopped rifling through a stack of photos long enough to glare at her for a moment before he began again.

"A deal, Ms. Gray." He glanced at the clock and frowned. "Phantom will be acting as our informant. I promised him protection from us in return for information on their movements."

She really needed to sit down. She flopped heavily into one of the pale-yellow lab chairs and put up a hand. "Okay, slow down Mr. Masters. You convinced Phantom to _spy_ for you? Was that _before_ or _after_ that ectoplasmic freak made you a human ice cube the other night?" She watched him warily as he stalked around the lab. He finished with his stack of photos, threw them on a table and snatched up a pile of newspaper clippings instead.

"After, my dear girl. I went to Circus Gothica last night to speak to him. You can imagine he was unhappy to see me again, but with the right. . . _persuasion_ ," Vlad's teeth glinted as he smiled. "He saw things my way."

She bolted out of her chair. "Hold up. _You_ went to Circus Gothica," She knew her voice was rising, but she was too confused to care, "Where someone or something is hypnotizing ghosts, including you, ALONE?"

"Twice, actually." Vlad glanced up and seemed to really look at her for the first time since she'd arrived. "Calm yourself, Ms. Gray, Phantom is not the one in charge. I'm not sure how, but the ringmaster is controlling the show. From what Phantom has said, if I stay away from Showenhower there will be little risk."

"And you _believed_ him?" Vlad rolled his eyes and returned to shuffling through his papers, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

"Okay, assuming Phantom isn't lying-which he is-how are you planning to get the information from Phantom?" Valerie stalked across the lab. She was going to make Vlad see what a stupid idea this was. "You give him your number?"

"Your sarcasm is hardly appreciated, Ms. Gray. I will be going to Circus Gothica each night, once the shows are over, and Phantom will inform me of any planned robberies. All you will need to do is chase the ghosts away from their targets." Vlad turned and walked towards one of the tables covered in books.

"Vlad," She complained, trailing after him, "this ghost is totally using you! You can't trust a word that slime says!" She caught up to him at the table, but he continued to ignore her. He grabbed one of the scattered coffee mugs and drained it in one swallow.

"I admit I need to make the rules slightly clearer." He grimaced at the cold coffee dregs. "I registered Phantom's ghost signature entering town earlier. He was alone, and didn't enter any buildings, but it won't do to have him seen around town."

"You mean to tell me that Phantom has already broken your little deal and that doesn't _bother_ you?"

"You're absolutely right, my dear girl," he agreed absentmindedly, apparently not hearing a word she'd said. "I'll speak to him about it tonight." His hands flexed and clenched unconsciously, and he glanced up at the clock again.

"There is still so much I don't know," Vlad muttered, his dark eyebrows curving into a scowl as he spoke. "I can't risk taking him until I know how Freakshow's doing it. He'd just vanish again. I need information. I need time. I need to get Phantom to trust me."

Before she could process what he'd just said, he took off towards the other side of the lab again, book in hand. She didn't understand about half of what he'd said, but the last part she understood.

"You want to get Phantom to trust you? Oh sure, let's invite it over. Give it the key to the mansion. Tell it our identities while we're at it!" She resumed trailing him around the lab.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ms. Gray," Vlad said thoughtfully. "I won't reveal something like that until the time is right."

"Vlad, are you even hearing yourself? This is the ghost that you were sure could hypnotize people! Just listening to you, I'm pretty sure he did! You went there alone, twice, and now you're wanting to play nice?" She growled in irritation as he turned and just phased through her instead of stopping and taking her seriously.

"Vlad," Valerie snapped, "Look. You _hate_ this ghost. Heck, _I_ hate this ghost. You had me capture him so you could 'interrogate' him, and we both know what that really means. Now you want to work together? Why would you make a deal with a ghost? Especially this ghost?"

"That does not concern you." Vlad said dismissively.

"Uh, it kinda does, Vlad." Valerie snapped. "You can't send me to a ghost fight and tell me not to fight the ghosts."

"If it's so distasteful to you," Vlad said, "Think of it this way. If we can figure out how Freakshow is controlling these ghosts, we can try to replicate it. Think of this as research Ms. Gray."

"We don't need Phantom in one piece to figure that out, Vlad. We need to do what we've always done. Destroy them. All of them, before they get out of control." Valerie skidded to a stop as he finally whirled around to face her, his eyes flashing a ghostly red.

"You will _not_ touch him, Ms. Gray. Do you understand me?" His hand pointed accusingly at her face. "I gave him my word that you would not harm either him or the ghost he calls his mother. I will not let you ruin this opportunity Ms. Gray!"

She stared at the finger almost touching her nose for a long moment. She dropped her gaze and folded her arms tightly. She glared at the floor, trying not to let the uncomfortable silence bother her.

"I just don't see why you care." Valerie muttered.

"Valerie," Vlad sighed, his voice apologetic. "Do you trust me?"

She reluctantly met his eyes. She hated when he pulled stuff like this.

"You know I do, Mr. Masters."

He _never_ used her name. Ever. It was that more than anything that made her understand that he was actually serious about this. He had made a deal with the devil, and he was dragging her into it. Vlad looked her in the eye steadily, waiting. Finally, she gave a tight nod.

"You're the smartest guy I know, Mr. Masters. I just hope you've got some big plan that I'm not seeing yet." Her eyes wandered back to the thick bundle of paper she'd originally come to the lab to show Vlad.

"Well, I guess at least one good thing has come out of all this Gothica business." Valerie said, forcing her voice to be light. Vlad's shoulders relaxed at her attempt to change the subject. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the tangles.

"Oh?"

She crossed the lab to scoop up the bundle and slapped down the newspaper she'd brought with her on the table between them.

GHOSTLY CULPRITS ROB JEWELRY STORE. A grainy photo showed the hazy outlines of five ghosts. Phantom's image was the clearest, his boyish profile clearly visible, though Valerie probably wouldn't have recognized him if she hadn't been there.

"I fail to see how this is a good thing," Vlad confessed, examining the article. A huge smile broke out over Valerie's face.

"They're calling him _Inviso-Bill._ " She couldn't choke down a laugh, and the sound of it bounced around the lab. "I didn't think they could come up with a worse name than the Scarlet Surfer, but man, I was wrong!"

* * *

The train car was dark when he swung himself up onto the metal ladder.

Phantom sighed and phased through the wall into the car. He was too tired to switch forms, which meant he had to wait for his weak human eyes to adjust to the pitch blackness. He slumped towards his hammock, weaving around the costume racks by memory as his eyes adjusted.

A full day had passed since his deal with Plasmius. His master had eventually dismissed him as the day had dawned, but he hadn't gone back to the car. He'd needed to go into town to swipe some food and find something to bandage his neck and shoulder with. His little trip into town had given him a lot of time to think about his first official meeting with Plasmius tonight. Even after a whole day to reflect on his choice, he couldn't shake a feeling of dread. If his fall last night had done one good thing, it was reminding him of one of the most basic rules. He needed a catcher.

A soft glow caught his eye as he made his way to the back of the car, and a soft puff of icy air confirmed who was there.

"Mom?" Phantom asked softly, stepping towards the gently swaying hammock.

Lydia did nothing to acknowledge him. She sat rigidly upright, her blank eyes staring at the wall. She was in her human disguise, which explained why her glow was so muted. He frowned when he saw that she was still wearing her white costume from the night before, the garish stage makeup rubbed off in spots. At least she was back.

"Mom, I need to tell you something." He knelt in front of her and took her cold hands in his, wishing her human disguise didn't mask the warm pulse of her core. Lydia didn't appear to notice him, though he told himself that she must be able to see and hear him.

"I found a way to keep us safe. To make sure neither of us get attacked by the huntress again."

He needed her to tell him that he was doing the right thing. If he had her as his catcher, he could do anything. His core began to pound with excitement as Lydia's head slowly turned to look down at their joined hands. She was listening!

"We won't have to worry. I made a deal. We're going to be safe." Part of him wished that the huntress would attack them again. Lydia, the real Lydia, had woken slightly during the attack. She only showed concern, or anything really, when there was a possibility he was in trouble. He knew it wasn't her fault. His master kept her more under his control than him. It was mostly because of him that his master kept her so subdued, if he was going to be completely honest.

That was why he had to go through with this, though. If Plasmius replaced him as the leader of their little troupe, if he wasn't aware of his actions, who would take care of them both?

"All I have to do is tell Plasmius if I've heard Master say anything about where he wants us to steal from. That's it. Do you think I should do it? I won't tell him anything that could hurt us, I promise."

He waited, a little breathless for her response.

After a long moment, one of her pale hands rose, and her fingertip traced the bandage on his arm, and then at his neck. Her dark eyes rose to his hopeful face, then drifted back to the wall of the car. Her hand fell back into her lap. He blinked hard, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He let go of her hands and straightened.

"Come on, Mom. You're still in your costume."

She stood obediently as he found and handed her her regular clothes. He went to the shelves of makeup on the side of the mirror as she turned invisible so she could change. By the time he'd found what he needed, she had reappeared, standing absently in place. He led her back to the hammock and started cleaning off the stage makeup that was still heavily caked on her face. Lydia impassively endured his attention, not even blinking. Once he'd finished, she robotically shifted to lay in the hammock, her blank gaze now focused at the ceiling. He quietly changed and climbed in as well.

"We're going to be okay, mom." Phantom muttered. He knew what he needed to do. Lydia didn't move as he curled up against her side. He really needed some sleep if he was going to be meeting with Plasmius in a few hours.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10: Dukie Tickets

**Hello there! Here's another chapter of Calliope. I'm grateful for everyone who has been adding and following Calliope, both old and new. It's a huge motivator to write and keep getting this idea out there! Just a warning, I made a small dialogue change in Chapter 5: The Giver of the Game, so that this chapter would make a little more sense. If you want to go back and read it, that'll help you understand part of this chapter as well, if not that's a-okay.**

* * *

"Just a moment, Phantom."

Phantom squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose. A cold wind curled around him, messing with his hair and blowing through his ratty shirt like it wasn't there. As cold as it was so high above Circus Gothica, he felt a hot rush of annoyance.

"What?" He snapped, turning back. Plasmius was floating a few yards away, arms folded casually as he looked at Phantom with an emotion he couldn't place. The ghost merely raised an eyebrow at his sharp response, and Phantom glared.

As much as he didn't want to show it, Phantom was at the end of his rope. He was hungry. He hadn't slept in nearly two days. His arm and neck were throbbing in the cold wind. He'd shown up to his little meeting with Plasmius like he promised, which had been a nerve-wracking decision in and of itself. He'd done his part, and he wasn't going to waste his time sticking around. Besides, the longer he was out in the open like this, the greater the chance that they'd be seen. He needed to get back. Plasmius, it seemed, had different ideas.

"Look, I told you the truth." Phantom spat before Plasmius could say anything else. "My master isn't planning anything tonight."

"Of that I have no doubt." Plasmius said smoothly. The wind was playing with his white cape, but Plasmius seemed unperturbed by the cold. Phantom knew his eyes were flaring as red as Plasmius's own, but he didn't feel the least bit repentant about it.

"Then, what?"

Plasmius looked at him coolly for a long moment.

"You're hurt," he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Phantom just stared at him blankly, then looked down at the makeshift bandage that was poking out of his shirt at the neckline and shrouded his arm. He'd been lucky enough to find some clothes being thrown out when he'd snuck into town earlier that day, and had torn them into strips to bind up his still raw arm and neck.

"That," Phantom drawled, coldly meeting Plasmius' eye, "Is not your problem." He felt a surge of satisfaction when Plasmius frowned slightly, and turned to leave again. He didn't know what sort of stunt Plasmius was trying to pull, but he'd told Plasmius as much as he was willing to tonight. It's not like he actually cared.

"Then allow me to discuss something that _is_ my problem." The warning in Plasmius's voice brought him up short. All concern, fake or otherwise, had vanished from his voice. "You entered my territory without warning or permission this morning."

Phantom felt his mouth go dry, and he considered literally vanishing. How could Plasmius have possibly known about that? Besides, he couldn't be mad at him for that! That wasn't breaking any of the rules! Was it? It wasn't stealing if they were throwing it away, right? If the stern look Plasmius was giving him was any indication, it was. Phantom felt a surge of resentment. His master had been busy that morning, and he'd taken the chance to go into Amity Park and go through a couple dumpsters outside restaurants.

"What about it?" Phantom asked rudely, refusing to feel guilty. He drifted backwards, ready to make a break for it if necessary. Plasmius seemed unruffled by his rudeness.

"It would be foolish of you to do so again. I have my own reasons for wanting you out of the public eye, and I doubt either the huntress or the human police would be pleased to catch you within the city limits."

"I've got to eat, Plasmius." Phantom muttered resentfully, hating how weak he sounded. He folded his arms and glared at the ground far below. Plasmius couldn't ask him not to feed himself! His master was more generous than he deserved when it came to making sure he was taken care of, but it was his own responsibility to make sure he had enough to eat. His master didn't ask, and Phantom didn't tell him.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything else, Plasmius spoke again.

"I have a proposition for you."

Startled, Phantom met Plasmius's eyes once more. Proposition? Like, another deal? What was this guy's problem, he was like some sort of demon! Plasmius took his silence as his cue to continue.

"I find myself. . . curious. To meet a half ghost is incredibly rare, and I have many questions. In return for this information, I will provide you with the food you need." His fangs glinted slightly as he smiled.

"So, it's either spill my guts or get on your bad side?" Phantom summed up cynically. Plasmius shrugged, his face in shadow, making him difficult to read.

"If that's how you want to look at it." Seeing his blatant suspicion, Plasmius sighed. "Phantom, I do not wish to quarrel with you. I am merely looking for a solution that does not involve you stealing from my territory. The information I seek is not of a sensitive nature. If you feel a question is not one you can or should answer, you would only need to say so, and I will not pry further. All I would ask is that, should you choose to answer, that you do so truthfully."

Phantom hovered silently, considering this. The last thing he wanted was an angry Plasmius, and his solution was fairly simple. He couldn't help but be impressed. And confused.

"What would tonight's question be?" Phantom asked cautiously. Plasmius's expression didn't change, but his shoulders relaxed slightly when he didn't refuse outright. That surprised him a little. Plasmius could squash him like a bug if he wanted, why would he be so eager to make a deal like this? He listened carefully as Plasmius began to speak.

"What is your name?"

Phantom stared. "Are you serious?"

"Have I given you any reason to think that I am not?" Plasmius retorted. That shut him up for a second, and they just stared at one another for several long moments. Finally, Phantom snorted.

"That's it?" Phantom asked again. "I answer that question and you'll give me food?"

Plasmius folded his arms again and rolled his eyes. "I already told you, Phantom. My questions will not be compromising."

"All right, I'll answer that question." He announced, making up his mind. Plasmius looked at him expectantly, but frowned slightly as a smirk spread across his face. "But I want the food first."

Without missing a beat, Plasmius reached into his cape and produced a small package wrapped in white paper. He tossed it lightly across the gap that divided them. Phantom managed to get over his surprise in time to catch the package with his good hand. The warm smell hit his nose, and he tentatively peeled back the tape holding down one end. Keeping an eye on Plasmius, he glanced inside was rewarded with the confirmation that it really was a sandwich in there. How had Plasmius known to bring food? Had he planned to make this deal? How had Plasmius known that he would accept? Unease prickled through him at the weight of the still warm sandwich in his hands. Plasmius wasn't stupid. He was powerful, manipulative, and he had to remember that, or else this would all go downhill fast. He coughed slightly as he realized that Plasmius had been watching his reaction closely.

"My name is Phantom." He quickly rewrapped the sandwich, glad for the distraction as he avoided Plasmius's eyes.

"That may be your performing name, but what is your true name?" Plasmius asked shrewdly, shifting forward.

Phantom froze as a wave of déjà vu hit him. Did Plasmius just. . .? No. He shook his head slightly. No, it was just a coincidence. He felt a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he longed for his hammock. This night was just too weird.

"Is something wrong?" Plasmius asked smoothly, drifting closer still.

"No," Phantom stuttered, jolted out of his thoughts by Plasmius's question and sudden proximity. "It's just that, you're the second person to ask me that since I came here." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Plasmius didn't appear to care. He just floated where he was, his head tipped condescendingly as he waited for him to answer.

"Danny." He said eventually. The name brought a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't like to admit that name. It belonged to someone who had, thankfully, died a long time ago. Someone who hadn't known Circus Gothica. Someone weak and afraid and alone.

"Danny," Plasmius repeated, as if trying it out. "That would be short for Daniel, wouldn't it?"

"Yes." He didn't elaborate. If Plasmius wanted more detailed answers, he'd have to ask better questions. He suddenly realized that he was looking up at Plasmius. The ghost had gotten close enough that he towered over him. Phantom swallowed uncomfortably, and made to back away. Faster that he would have thought possible, Plasmius's hand shot out and grabbed his injured wrist.

"Let go of me, Plasmius!" Phantom yelped, trying to pull away. How had he been so stupid? Plasmius didn't want to make some stupid deal with him! This had all been some weird ploy to get him far enough from Circus Gothica that he could beat him up again! He made to turn intangible so he could slip free.

"Calm down, Daniel." Plasmius snapped, shaking him hard enough to break his concentration. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Like hell you are!" Phantom yelled, aiming a kick at the other ghost's stomach. His foot passed through it harmlessly. "And don't call me that!" Plasmius sighed.

"I'm only going to take a look at your arm." Plasmius phased through another kick, this one aimed at a more sensitive area. "I'm not sure what you've done to it, and I'm sure you won't tell me, but whatever filthy rag you've wrapped it in can't be helping. Don't make me shock you." Plasmius added in warning.

Before he could protest further, or calm down enough to turn intangible, Plasmius grabbed the frayed cloth with his free hand and phased it off his arm. Phantom hissed as the night air attacked the sensitive skin, but he forced himself to remain still. He did _not_ want to get electrocuted again. Plasmius looked critically at the long scrape, never easing up his crushing grip, his eyes lingering on roughest areas at his wrist and neck.

"Are you having any trouble moving your fingers or head?"

Phantom shook his head, too tense to speak.

"Good, the damage is purely superficial." Before Phantom could stop him, Plasmius's gloved hand began to glow around his wrist. He gasped as a rush of prickling warmth rushed through him, focused on the injured area. Before his eyes the redness of the scrape vanished, and the soreness in his shoulder and neck eased. Plasmius released him and floated back with a look of satisfaction.

"What did you. . ?" Phantom blurted, flexing his fingers in shock.

"I temporarily heightened your healing ability." Plasmius said smugly.

"Can't have your spy injured, can you?" Phantom muttered, thoroughly freaked out by the last few minutes. It was the only reason he could think of that explained why Plasmius would help him like that.

"No, is suppose not." Plasmius said calmly. If he had been looking, he would have seen the flicker of disappointment in Plasmius's eyes. "I believe that's all for tonight. You should go and get some rest."

He didn't have to tell him twice. Phantom turned and zipped downwards, eager to put some distance between him and Plasmius, and get back into the familiar red energy of Gothica. Even with the wind rushing in his ears, his sensitive hearing caught Plasmius's last words.

"Until tomorrow, Daniel."

* * *

 **FUN FACT: Dukie Tickets are a type of voucher that circus's would give their performers to spend on food at the cook house. Danny's dukie tickets are going to end up being answers, but obviously not to the kind of questions he's expecting.**

 **Please send me any questions or comments that you have. I'm using this story to improve my writing skills, so if you have any constructive criticism, I'd be super grateful:)**


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